


Air Traffic Controllers

by IAmNotAnArtist



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Anxiety, Depression, Drug Abuse, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Self-Mutilation, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, childhood neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotAnArtist/pseuds/IAmNotAnArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their medical records were just as extensive as they were miserable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been exactly seven months. Seven months since James got stuck in this horrible, dull place. The smell of sterilized rooms and bleached floors filled his nose while the cries of the mentally ill filled his ears. He’d see smiles of nurses and therapists day in and day out, that he could only describe as fake and plastered as a Barbie doll’s face. This place was so welcoming that it was almost sickening. He isolated himself as much as possible for his own comfort, but found it hard because of the daily group therapy sessions with other patients. James couldn’t lie when he was said to be one of the most stuck-up patients, he just didn’t care for the others surrounding him. He never wanted to hear the same repetitive issues, the same compliments and praises, the same people asking for their support, the same group therapy sessions about what they’ll accomplish at lunch today. He didn’t want to hear it, because he wasn’t sick. How could he be sick? Losing a little weight wasn’t anything to be concerned about; he needed it. His mother’s words echoed in his head almost constantly: “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to lose a few pounds.” Even with the antidepressants and antipsychotics forcefully shoved down his throat and feeding tubes forcefully putting unwanted food in him, he couldn’t shake the fact that he was completely, utterly, unhealthily overweight.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” James’ mother would ask him in a slightly horrified tone. He looked up at her, confused because all he asked for was a light dessert after a relatively healthy meal. At sixteen years old, James was fond at his mother’s thin physique and only wished he could be that thin; that physically fit. He looked over to his half-brother and half-sister, also being very thin, he felt guilt and anger knot his stomach. His half-brother, being the star quarterback of the football team and his half-sister being one of the flyers for the cheerleading team both were breathtakingly beautiful and fit, just like their mother. James was fond of soccer and played offense extremely well, but you don’t gain the popularity like you do on the brutal, bloody sport like football. You’re not a mother’s dream son if you don’t end up being the star quarterback of the varsity team with a scholarship on top of it. 

He found himself and his half-siblings competing for attention as soon as James hit high school. If soccer games overlapped with football games, James’ mother would be nowhere in his sight. Rather she’d be in the next town over cheering for her other son, making the winning touchdown while her daughter is thrown so gracefully into the air. 

James gracefully weaved through the opposing team and kicked the ball quite hard into the goal, his anger progressively becoming more prominent as the soccer game continued. He’d find himself hunched over, trying to catch his breath when teammates would pat him on the back after he made yet another remarkable goal. He’d look up, sweat slowly streaking his forhead and temples, but see no signs of his mother. Thus making his heart ache with every harsh beat, his panting coming out even harder and raspier than before at the unpleasant pang.

“I-I just thought,” James stuttered nervously, suddenly fidgeting with his junior-varsity soccer hoodie. It was almost painfully quiet at the dinner table as his mother waited for his response with this sorrowful, pained look on her face. James noticed that she had been giving him slightly smaller portions than his siblings, but he never mentioned it, too afraid of the humiliation like he was facing now.

“Why don’t you go do your homework? Maybe drink a glass of water to fill your stomach up.” James only looked up at her, her loving attention fully focused on him, he loved it. He nodded in agreement, making her smile and hug him tightly. The hug was awkward, but warm as James’ mother’s perfume filled his nose so much is tickled. He rarely got his mother’s full attention that he craved so badly. He loved the feeling of her gentle arms wrapped around him, protecting him from his past and his thoughts seemed to melt away for mere seconds. If agreeing to what she wanted was rewarded with her care, then he was open to it.

As she pulled away she cupped his face and gently kissed his forehead. He smiled slightly and got up from the table when she pulled away. Venturing up the curved stairs to his room at the far end of the hallway, bottle of room-temperature water in hand. He ended up curled up in his computer chair, knees to his chest contemplating ways to lose weight. He looked at the full length mirror across the room, feeling disgusted with how he looked. Pinching at his legs, arms, and face at how much fat he has accumulated over the past few years.

In reality, James was 5’8” at about 145 pounds, with a slightly toned, but feminine physique. Nothing too physically extravagant. The mirror reflected a small, frail looking boy with his hoodie slightly sliding off one shoulder, exposing his collar bone slightly. Perched in a chair that seemed large for him. His eyes, a dull blue and bloodshot from more stress and no sleep. Competing for your mother’s affection was tiring, but wanting it more than anything after your father’s neglect for eight years was hard to ignore.

James closed his eyes, laughing to himself harshly, taking a swig of water to sooth is growling stomach. He looked back at his laptop, propped up on his desk. He ended up falling asleep in an uncomfortable fashion to the sounds of James Bond movies. He woke up to a pain in his neck at 7:00am with a DVD menu playing in an endless loop.

As he closed the laptop, standing up and massaging the knot in his neck, he padded across the hardwood floor to the small bathroom connected to his bedroom. He turned the shower head on, stripping down from his hoodie and skinny jeans to find himself self evaluating ever-visible pieces of fat in the bathroom mirror. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he roughly pinched the skin, leaving red, crescent shaped indents. He felt so guilty for eating, felt overweight, and felt out of control with his hunger.

After his shower he headed down to the kitchen to find his siblings sitting just as they were the night before. The smell of waffles and strawberries rotated around the house, hitting his nose as his stomach did a flip. He decided to ignore it as he walked through the entryway to be greeted by his mother’s loving smile. She offered him a waffle with a few strawberries on the side – no butter, no syrup, no added flavors or carbs like his siblings had loaded onto their plates.

“No thank you, I’ll just get something from school.” He politely pushed the plate back to her, smiling crookedly. She looked proud. In the sickest way possible she gave him the largest smile she hadn’t showed him since he moved back in with her after she regained custody. He grabbed a glass from the dish rack and filled it with water, chugging it down to soothe the stomach pains before he headed out the door, backpack over his shoulder and a determined thought in his head.

He could control this. He can lose more and more weight, gaining his mother’s attention. He felt giddy and light-hearted just thinking about the look she had given him moments ago about refusing to eat such high-carbed food.

Today was the day. Today was the day that James would essentially stop eating. He’d only eat what he needed; rather what his body thought it needed.

A month had passed and James ended up becoming too malnourished to play soccer, for which he used the excuse that he was ill. He became paler with purple bags under his eyes that were almost constantly there, no matter how much sleep he got the night before. He’d stare at his reflection for hours while his mother and siblings thought he was studying or playing video games while in fact he was pinching and prodding at his skin. Frustrated that he hasn’t lost the significant amount of weight that he was supposed to lose. It had been a month and he became too afraid to even look at the scale in his bathroom to check his weight. 

His mother’s neglect kept coming and going over the course of the next few weeks, pushing him to eat less and less than he did the day before. Competing for the attention his half-sister was now getting over her newly-polished first place trophy. Since he wasn’t participating in athletics at the moment, he ended up having nothing to show for. Nothing to talk about. Nothing to gain his mother’s pride and attention.

He ended up slipping down the stairs one night when he was called to dinner. Causing a sprained wrist and fractured arm. His weight had gone down significantly after fasting for two months. From 145 lbs to 120 lbs. James was reluctant to get on the scale and even pushed his feet against the floor, whimpering slightly as the doctors and nurses forced him on it due to his malnourished state. His mother seemed utterly shocked at the idea that her son was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. He looked at her face of shock and teary eyes, his vision still blurry and spinning. Her voice echoed in his head at her retorts over him being admitted into a mental institution.

“My baby isn’t sick! You’re sick for trying to take him away from his loving mother!” Her pained, tearful screams echoed through his head as he looked blankly at the white wall next to her.

###### 

He felt like it was his fault that his mother was pained and didn’t come to visit very often. She seemed too upset and disappointed. She wouldn’t even look James in the eyes anymore. Mostly he would just get a phone call here and there asking how he is and if he’s eaten anything that day. His mother still seemed accepting of his light eating habits, making his heart lift a bit at the slight praise and acceptance.

He didn’t have many friends at the facility. He didn’t want friends at this facility. He couldn’t understand why he was here. Why people were so concerned and why he was getting asked the same questions every day. He just wanted to go back home to his mother, who would give him affection and understanding. Unlike the people here that poked and prodded nutrition from a feeding tube through his nose. They didn’t care. They didn’t understand. He was taking care of himself just fine and didn’t need any help from these lunatics at this facility. He felt like he was being abused; bullied; blamed.

He acted stuck up with other patients, giving them hard looks, scoffing them, ignoring their hands outstretched, waiting for an introduction from the small, blonde boy. He didn’t want anything to do with these people. He just wanted to act better enough to get out of this sterilized, hospital gown, scale and feeding tube ridden prison.

###### 

“This is James, he’s been with us for a little over seven months.” He heard a nurse say cheerfully to a new attendee. The same introduction was given to every single patient. They all tried to introduce themselves to him, but they would soon give up, leaving him be to sulk in a cafeteria chair, rolling spinach leafs around his salad bowl. James kept his eyes lowered to the bowl, lazily twirling the fork as the nurse awkwardly laughed. “Isn’t that right, James?” Still no answer. He diverted his attention to the wall on the opposite side of the cafeteria hoping that they would walk away and carry on with the tour.

He heard the nurse apologize, saying that James was stubborn at first, but was a sweetheart once you get to know him. A lie. He rolled his eyes, sitting up straighter in his chair, focusing his attention back on the untouched food.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just stay here for a bit. Get to know more people and all.” He heard a slightly deep voice in response. He didn’t bother looking up, figuring they would both leave his side and go their separate ways. After the nurse agreed, explaining to the new patient that she’ll come find him after the meal hour was over to continue to tour.

James heard a chair scrape against the floor and someone sit next to him. Extremely irritated now, James stuck his nose in the air, closing his eyes while sitting pretty trying to keep his composure. He just wanted to be alone. He was already going to be harassed by the nurses and threatened that he’ll get fed through those dreaded tubes if he didn’t eat. He didn’t need this boy bothering him during his “meals.”

“Hey, princess, take it down a notch. We’re all here for shitty reasons.” James jumped and shot a glare at the boy. Blood rushed to his cheeks slightly at the comment in aggravation. The boy next to him laughed slightly, finding that the comment worked in gaining at least some of James’ attention. “Name’s Lawrence.” He smiled slightly, holding out his hand gently. James looked down to see how bruised and cut up his knuckles were, hesitating before wrapping his smaller, softer hand around Lawrence’s calloused one.

“James.” He mumbles out, trying to avoid eye contact as he lightly shook his hand. He wasn’t used to casual interactions anymore.

Lawrence took in the sight of the frail boy in front of him. His shirt was baggy and fell off his shoulder slightly with black leggings wrapped around his thin legs. The blonde boy sat with one of his legs brought up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee as he gave up on looking like he ate any part of his salad. He wrapped his arms around his leg, swinging the other gently back and forth underneath the table. Lawrence couldn’t help but find the boy slightly attractive. His light blue eyes were surprisingly dull, but nevertheless breathtaking as James stared ahead at nothing. He seemed unaware at Lawrence’s eyes examining him.

“James,” he heard a light, pleasant voice call as she walked up to his side. She kneeled down slightly, treating the now 17 year old boy as a child. “Remember what happens if you refuse to eat.” She vaguely forewarned him about the force feeding sessions he goes through at least once a week. James just sighed harshly and took the fork and shoved a mouthful of leafy greens in between his teeth. He felt sick chewing on them, and instantly felt guilt rise in his gut as his stomach was gratefully taking in the nutrition.

Better than a feeding tube. He thought glaring at a wall as he roughly swallowed the spinach.

Lawrence sighed as he saw the nurse walk off, seemingly satisfied that she got James to eat. He looked dreamingly at the boy in front of him, admiring his stubborn personality and lovely physique – even when he was extremely underweight.

He didn’t dare tell James that he was here ten months prior for the same reasons that he got readmitted for a week ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear these chapters will become longer in due time.

###### 

There was a lot of blood covering Lawrence’s knuckles, so much he couldn’t tell if it was his or the motherfucker’s that ran rumours about him through the school like wildfire. His chest and head felt like they were on fire as he tried to regain his breath. His blood pressure must have been well over normal, panting warm clouds of vapor from his mouth on the cold, Autumn night. He stood staring at the body, knocked out and pressed up against the graffiti covered brick wall of the abandoned factory near his home. His heart beat impaired his hearing, that is until he focused on the distant police sirens. Obviously someone around the area had called the cops. I mean, it was a middle-class suburb at 10pm, of course any sort of ruckus happening was going to be reported.

It took a minute for the sound of sirens to process and get his legs and feet stimulated enough to start running, jumping a few fences clumsily. He stumbled and fell on the last fence leading to his yard, slightly hissing at the pain that shocked his ribs as he hit the ground. The sirens continually rang in Lawrence’s ears, piercing them as they grew louder. As he regained his balance, holding the left side of his rib cage he turned to see red and blue lights illuminating the end of his street.

He only prayed that they wouldn’t turn left as they blasted the sirens. His heart nearly sank to his gut as they followed his exact path just moments ago. He quickly ran for the door, hoping his mother and father wouldn’t hear him bursting in. They regularly grounded him for sneaking out late, starting fights at school, and reluctantly let him out of the house past seven, but he ached to beat the hell out of this kid. So he climbed through his second-story window, dropping to the ground sending a shock of both adrenaline and pain through his ankles and back.

Lawrence wasn’t the fittest and most graceful, but he could pack a punch in the right scenarios. Tonight was one of those right scenarios.

Yes, he meant to wear his titanium rings.

Yes, he meant to knock the guy out cold.

Yes, he meant to wear dark colored clothing to poorly hide the blood stains.

No, he wasn’t planning on the front door being locked.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Lawrence mumbles under his breath, shaking at the handle violently as the sirens got closer. Panic started to induce as he started pounding on the door, not caring if he got grounded at that point. It was way better than actual jail time. He needed to hide in his room. The police would come up to the door and he could play it off. Make some excuse up. If his parents would just open the door before they pulled in the drive.

His breath hitched as the sirens silenced themselves as the red and blue lights seemed to illuminate the walls of the worn house’s exterior beautifully. Slowly, Lawrence leaned his head back in defeat, panting slightly still as another rush of adrenaline hit his body. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling the pain in his ribs more as he heaved breaths out. He heard his mother and father stumble to the door as authorities slowly made their way up to the front porch. Lawrence turned around hesitantly, hoping that everything would disappear. He heard the door open as his mother and father’s distressed voices filled his ears.

He felt almost ashamed, still relieved after beating the ever-living piss out of the now - probably hospitalized - boy. Although, this didn’t stop him from becoming verbally defensive to the police and his parents. He felt vindictive for the next six months that he spent in a mental facility for cognitive behavior therapy and group psychotherapy. He continually thought of ways to get back at every single person that ever came across him in a negative fashion.

How to stab that fucker that spread the rumours.

How to get back at the person who called the cops that night.

How to get back at the door that was fucking locked.

How to get back at himself for the expression his mother pulled when he was diagnosed. 

Oppositional defiant disorder was scrawled across medical papers. Pamphlets were handed left and right between him and his already-overwhelmed parents. He didn’t dare look them in the eyes until he got admitted into a highly recommended and highly priced mental institute. It was sickening how this place was advertised. The pamphlets treated these treatments like they were some easy, piece-of-cake-process. When in reality controlling Lawrence’s anger was probably the most painful and mentally tiring thing possible. The next four months were absolute torture.

###### 

“You’re really leaving?” Lawrence looked up from his Nintendo DS to face the younger boy next to him. “Tomorrow?” He could see him shaking and constantly wringing the blanket of the bed. He then looked to the other four boys surrounding him. They all looked like leaving was just a dream that would never be fulfilled. They could barely process the words Lawrence had just proudly announced moments ago.

“Yeah, did my time, got more social,” He opened his arms up to prove his point. “Obviously, and been cooperative in those bullshit group therapies.” Lawrence felt amazing, like he manipulated the system, and got back at those doctors and cops that threw him in this jail in the first place. Freedom was teasing the tip of his tongue like grains of sugar. He was itching to be free, to be able to play video games for hours on end, build kickass computers, and just live a more normal life again.

“It’s must be an exquisite feeling.” He looked at the small, frail boy across from him with glimmering eyes like a child on Christmas. His arms were scarred and bruised from repeated incision and drainage procedures. He picked at the wounds lightly, convinced that they were still severely infected, often having panic attacks over the nurses ignoring it.

“Yeah, I can only dream of the day they take me into the office to tell me I’m out of here.” Came another voice to Lawrence’s right. “The absolute freedom to control your own self is something I’ll never be able to wrap my head around again.” The boy, slightly older than Lawrence, looked up at the ceiling dreamily, raising his arms up in emphasis, covered in track marks, his head laying in a smaller boy’s lap.

“I’d be worried about the relationship between you and ‘absolute freedom.’” Retorted the voice from above. Gently running his fingers across the track marks on the older one’s arms. Something he wouldn’t let anyone else touch, let alone get near. The boy with track marked arms gently grabbed the other boy’s hand, kissing the white, horizontal scrapes against his wrists in reassurance that he wasn’t going to leave behind his favorite person.

“Come on guys, you’ll get out of here soon enough and we can all celebrate at Arby’s or something.” Lawrence reassured all the boys sitting around the bed. Some doubt escaped his lips as he examined how broken these five boys were. Then again he still saw himself as a shattered mirror, yet he made it out.

“You’ll be back.” Came a smaller, more monotone voice. Everyone turned to the boy, an emotionless expression across his face. He barely talked, barely showed them any emotion, yet they all loved him and he still stuck around. It was pure irony how one emotionless patient hung out with the five most emotional patients at the institute.

Lawrence felt anger flame inside his chest, but learned how to cope with it over the four month torture courses. He just brushed it off his shoulder, the rest of the group sighing in relief at Lawrence’s surprisingly calm response.

“Bet you ten bucks I won’t.” Lawrence gave the unemotional boy, Matt, a smug, challenging grin.

###### 

Nine months later Lawrence got himself into another brawl. Which mostly resulted in broken plates and drywall around his home.

One day. The one day he forgets to take his medication is the day that his parents have to keep nagging him about his grades and social life. He just wanted to play Grand Theft Auto V mods in peace. Why do his parents have to ruin it? I mean, he hasn’t skipped school in over a month, which is a new record for him. Shouldn’t that be enough?

More questions kept surfacing at the dinner table about school and if Lawrence has found any girls that are pleasing to his eyes. He felt like he was in the interrogation room again rather than the family dining room. They kept asking him questions right after he took a large bite of food. His patience level was lowering at a dangerous rate.

“Will you just shut up for two fucking seconds?” He spit the words through gritted teeth looking at his mother with piercing green eyes. His memory was clouded at that point as the anger boiled over in his veins.

Nine months. Nine months of nothing but grinded teeth and a bleeding tongue. It was enough. Lawrence felt like people were taking advantage of him. Stepping all over him. They weren’t in control of his decisions, his values, his life. He was. He was tired of his parents demands. Tired of ignoring the insults and harsh teasing in the school hallways. Everything has a breaking point, Lawrence’s unfortunately had to be at - what was supposed to be - a peaceful dinner.

“I was only asking you how your life was going, honey.” His mother’s sickly sweet voice was laced with fear as she looked back at him. “You’ve become so secluded again and your father and I are just worried.”

“I’m happy when I’m own.” It was the only thing that slipped through Lawrence’s lips before he looked back down at his food. He was gripping onto the hem of his shirt so tightly that his knuckles of his left hand were turning white. Control yourself. He reminded himself of that bleach-white prison. A “treatment” center that was more torture than anything Lawrence had ever experienced in his short life. His anger was a part of who he was. Why couldn’t people just accept him for what he was.

“Don’t disrespect your mother like that.” He flinched at his father’s strong voice, not looking up from his barely touched food. “We’re throwing a lot of love and support into getting you help. The least you can do is be thankful.”

Lawrence was now shaking. His whole body felt like it was going to cave in on itself. They didn’t see how Joel hit the ground in ear-piercing sobs as the nurses and doctors refused to take him to the hospital for treatment that he thought he needed when he was perfectly healthy that morning during his checkup. They didn’t see nurses forcefully take Sean into a shark tank of people in the cafeteria with his shrieks of refusal filling the hallways. Didn’t see how Adam tried to find or make anything sharp enough to mutilate his own skin. Didn’t see Bruce’s withdrawals where he was left completely vulnerable, shaking, and spaced in his room. Didn’t hear the nurses saying “this is good for you” repetitively to Matt as he was forced to feel emotions and attachments that he couldn’t comprehend. They definitely didn’t see how they forced Lawrence to choke on his retorts to doctors and therapists and ultimately be respectful of other annoying patients. They didn’t see how scarred he and his friends were from this place. His parents didn’t see him through the thick of it; the absolute worst of it; the most of it.

He threw his plate, barely reaching his mother’s left cheek as it shattered against the wall behind her. Both of his parents jumped from their seats.

“You have no idea what’s good for me!” Lawrence screamed through the room, getting more and more fueled with anger with the more flashbacks he saw of him and his friends being bound and mentally tortured while pills were shoved down their throat.

“This is what’s best for you.” The psychiatrists’ voices kept echoing in his head as he threw more plates, glasses, and silverware, punching at the wall forcefully hard, cutting his hands up. His mother was now in hysterics as his father tackled him to the floor. His hand was tight against the back of Lawrence’s neck, his father’s knee was painfully pressed against his back.

“Why can’t you be fucking normal?!” His father’s voice snapped at him as he tightened his grip to keep Lawrence to the floor. Lawrence felt tears sting his eyes as broken shards of glass were pressing against his cheek on the cold, tiled floor. He felt ashamed. He was physically hurting. He was extremely frustrated. Furthermore, he was most upset at the fact that he now owed Matt 10 dollars.

###### 

He proceeded with the so-called-necessary tour through the familiar hallways, rooms, and cafeteria. It had been another month of sorting through papers and talking to doctors that Lawrence was thrown back into his own personal Hell. Lawrence barely paid attention to the nurse who was acting like he’d never been there before. He was already emptying his pockets before he entered the cafeteria. He knew the rules. He hated them, but he obliged and it made him feel sick. Irritation bubbled inside of him as she acted clueless as to how he knew the regulations of the cafe already.

As he walked through the double doors to the dining hall, he noticed familiar faces and saw numerous new ones. He felt sympathetic at the sunken eyes and broken bodies crowding into the the cafeteria. Although what caught his eyes was a young boy, around his age, curled up tightly in his seat, back turned to him, sitting in isolation.

The nurse must have noticed, taking the chance to walk him over to the blonde loner. She introduced him as James. He didn’t seem too interested and kept his eye on his untouched food. Lawrence finally realized why he was here past the oversized shirt covering his underweight body. His heart ached at how beautiful his second-rate body was. His irritation was now forgotten as his eyes scanned the boy.

He thought to himself that the faster he looked more social and friendly, the faster he’d get out of the damned place. James looked like the perfect candidate for Lawrence’s ticket out of here. If he could become “friends” with the loner of the institution, then he could ultimately befriend anyone (or at least look like he could). Doctor’s would notice his more social and patient behavior with him and others and he’ll be released. Piece of cake.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just stay here for a bit. Get to know more people and all.” He let the words roll off his tongue as smoothly as possible. After the nurse gave him the deal of meeting him at the doors at the end of the lunch hour, she left.

He looked around and quickly found a chair nearby the isolated boy. He intentionally scraped it across the floor to grab the blonde boy’s attention, but it seemingly didn’t face him at all. Irritation bubbled in Lawrence once more. 

The way James carried himself was almost sickening. The blonde boy sat himself on a pedestal five feet above Lawrence. It was the challenge in which Lawrence hadn’t had in nine months, and he loved it. He tried to calm himself by letting out a blunt statement.

“Hey, princess, take it down a notch. We’re all here for shitty reasons.” He didn’t mean for the words to come out so harshly, but they did. James finally looked at him with wide, baby blue eyes and a face filled with disgust at the nickname (if he had to take a guess). James responded with absolutely nothing. If this one-sided conversation was anything, then it was mostly just awkward eye contact.

Lawrence’s breath hitched. He was completely caught off guard by the dull blue color that reflected from James’ irises. More so at the somewhat adorable reaction that came from the rich-acting boy. He ran his bruised fingers through his hair to snap himself back to what he was doing. The last thing he needed was to get attached to someone – especially in his state of mind. He flinched slightly at the memory of a thrown plate grazing his mother’s cheek. He just needed to play this through, getting close enough to show progress and quickly be released. He was already nauseous at the bleach-scented rooms.

Lawrence felt himself come back from his thoughts, letting out a slight chuckle to clear his throat after quickly regaining himself. How long had he been staring at him? Hopefully not too long. The absolute last thing he needed was to freak the one boy out that was his express ticket to freedom.

“Name’s Lawrence.” He said as smoothly as he possibly could, reaching his wounded hand to James’ surprisingly soft and frail one. His heart seemed to skip a beat as his diaphragm yet again went against his wishes and squeezed at his lungs. James’ hand was extremely small in his and soft like he’s never lifted a finger in his life. 

“James.” He heard a small voice finally say back, not realizing the impact he had on Lawrence’s breathing patterns for the past five minutes. 

A nurse came to James’ side soon after, vaguely threatening him about feeding tubes.

James didn’t notice Lawrence’s quick side glance to the proud nurses after James was forced to eat the leafy salad on his tray. They must have noticed the short interaction between him and James. Although awkward, it did already show an “effort” to Lawrence’s progress. He looked back at James, now swallowing the spinach like it was rocks. Lawrence then decided then and there that he’d need to put his feelings aside if he ever wanted a future outside of this place. Plus, for fuck’s sake, he threw a plate at his own mother. He could only imagine what he could do to the fragile body sitting in front of him. 

Lawrence looked down at his hands - calloused and torn - and suddenly felt hatred towards his parents for causing him to get thrown back into this place. It was their fault. He was doing so well. Now all that was left of him was a thicker medical record and more personal journal entries. Looking back at James he now saw a challenge. If he could get the biggest loner of the institute to “befriend” him, then he would be out of here in a lot less time than expected by the doctors of the institute.

It was his only fighting chance at this point. With how seemingly easy this boy was to wrap around Lawrence’s finger, he’d be out of this torture-filled institute in no time. James was his golden ticket.


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you think this looks normal?” Joel was poking and prodding at his skin with his nails, pulling the portable mirror closer to his left cheek. He wasn’t asking anyone in particular – that is until he got no answer from the boys around him. He huffed slightly, turning to his right to face Sean with concern written all over his face. “Hey,” Sean turned to him slightly, looking over him. He could already tell what the darker haired boy would ask.

He immediately cupped Joel’s face, examining the small, nearly nonexistent pimple. “Looks perfectly fine to me.” He gave a reassuring smile mere seconds before Joel wriggled away from his grip and back to his mirror. Once more he started to prick and prod at his already beaten skin. “Joel, it’s just a pimple.” Sean saw how Joel started to shiver, his breathing becoming irregular as he became frustrated.

“What if it’s some sort of skin cancer or something?” He looked worriedly into the pastel pink, compact mirror. Sean silently sighed, looking concerned at how shattered Joel was.

As Joel kept looking over his skin for more malformations, a dark haired boy caught his eye across the cafeteria. The glasses and posture was a giveaway. He looked up, not moving his hand or head away from the mirror, smiling in curiousity. 

“Is that Lawrence?” He now lowered the mirror after a 20 minute, daily exercise at lunch of analyzing every pore, every mole, every hair on his face. He leaned on the table a bit, now interested on the sight across the meal-hall. Everyone turned their heads or craned their necks, their eyes expressing nothing but shock. How could he be back now? It’s been ten months. They thought he was forever out of here. All of them nearly forgot what Lawrence even looked like. Joel took a quick glance at Matt, thinking he’d give them all a smug grin and a ‘I told you so’ escaping his lips as he waited for his ten dollar winnings, but he seemed as silently surprised as the rest of them.

“What’s that asshole doing over there?” Joel’s ears perked and turned his head towards Adam. He didn’t seem offended, just completely confused. Lawrence wasn’t one to ignore the group of boys. Joel’s eyebrow arched as Lawrence leaned back a little, exposing a smaller, blonde boy next to him. He was smiling and seemed intrigued in whatever it was that Lawrence was talking about.

“Isn’t that that super snobby dude in your self-esteem, group therapy sessions, Adam?” Bruce finally asked, turning from the scene playing out in front of them to Adam. Adam scoffed a bit, remembering the cold shoulder the quiet boy had given him and the others when they tried to introduce themselves when he first was admitted.

“You mean ‘Miss Priss.’ Oh, I’m sorry. James. It’s James.” Adam retorted back to Bruce, a smug smile on his face at the nickname. “Yeah, that’s him. Never talks to people. Acts like he was brought up with daddy’s money. Pretty much Miss America.” He rolled his eyes, using his hands as emphasis on James’ personality. “Why would Lawrence even socialize with someone like that? That’s not like him at all. The last guy that acted like ‘his boogers where better than his’ got knocked out cold.” Adam seemed at a loss for words at how engaged the two boys were with their conversation.

“Well, only one way to find out.” Joel started to get up from his seat, but roughly got yanked back down by an anxiety-ridden Sean.

“That may not be the best ‘welcome back’, J.” Sean looked at him with wide, worried eyes, his voice was trembling like the rest of his body. Joel was always extremely confrontational even with his ridden illness anxiety constantly itching at him. “Let’s just see how it plays out. We’ll see Lawrence later when we’re allowed to go to the lounge.” Sean was tugging at his hoodie collar, feeling the back of his head and neck heat up as all the other’s eyes were on him, his voice trailed out to a soft mumble.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Spooleo” Joel responded with the warmest (fakest) smile possible. He knew how hard it was for Sean to speak up, let alone throw ideas out there for the boys. Even though he itched to get up from his chair, waltz over to Lawrence, and pretend James was nonexistent as he took Lawrence back to his table, he stayed where he was. He felt jealousy churn in the pit of his stomach over Lawrence even acknowledging the snottiest boy he’s ever come into contact with.

Joel sat up straight in his seat, bringing the mirror back up to his face, once again examining every inch of skin. His scarred arm brushing across his face, gently caressing the nearly flawless skin.

###### 

He was laying in bed. He felt too weak to sit up, shivering from the 104-degree fever. His breathing was shallow as he whimpered with every wave of pain that stimulated the nerves down his left arm. He struggled to sit up, examining the wound with the little light that leaked into his bedroom from the hallway.

His mother had deeply cut his arm, leaving a small, dirty pin under the skin to advance an infection that would surely need to be drained the next morning. He winced when his fingers pressed near the wound. It hurt too much to remove and his mother would just become upset with him. Joel could feel himself becoming sicker. This had become a normal routine for him. With a four-hundred page medical record and no explanation for half of Joel’s complications since he was two years old, it was left with misdiagnosing and some unneeded treatment. Furthermore, his mother would only truly show love and care for him when he ended up in the hospital 24+ hours after the wounds were crafted.

He slid off of his bed, almost collapsing under his own weight. He felt completely useless, vulnerable, and constantly sick. He padded across the hardwood floors to leave his bedroom, slightly dragging his right hand across the hallway walls to steady himself, leaving his left arm to dangle at his side. He stumbled onto the tiled floor, wincing as the cut grazed the fabric of his oversized t-shirt.

He needed to get this pin out. He couldn’t take the hospital rooms, the drainage procedures from constant infections to his arms, and doctors informing his mother that he could have died if he wasn’t admitted a few hours later. The constant fear resided in his stomach that he was extremely sick, and that he should essentially live at the hospital with all his complications. 

He didn’t see what the problem was with the idea. His mother was constantly taking him to the local hospital where she could go into expansive records and talk to the other nurses and doctors about their personal lives that she knew all too well. It was normal for Joel to see the hospital gowns and wheelchairs at least once a week. Hospitals were his home. It’s what keeps saving his life from illnesses he never even thought he had. He believed he was sick. His mother believed he was sick. He needed constant medical attention, he needed to be monitored, he needed his mother’s care – or he’d die.

Joel’s mother refused to leave his bedside when he was admitted in the hospital. She gave him so much love and attention and comfort when he was there. His mother always told him that it was what was best for him; that he was ill and needed this. She proceeded with swinging a hammer at his bruised bones with sickening cracks and slicing paper-thin skin with shattered pieces of expensive china. Through tears and screams of almost mind-numbing pain, Joel’s mother would hug him tightly, telling him that it was going to be alright. He could barely hear her muffled voice stuffed into the crook of his neck as his sobs tear through the too-thin air. He couldn’t breathe.

He stared at the pin, now infecting his wound. It was almost sickening how Joel hesitated pulling the submerged needle out. He’d evidently lose the love and care of his mother if he did, but he felt like he was choking on air, sweat covering his shivering body; he felt like he was dying. His fears of being extremely sick creeped back into his mind, making it almost unbearable to look at the wound.

After ten minutes of hesitation, Joel went back to his room. His body felt like it was deteriorating with every step back to his bed. He left the pin in. It was his choice. It was his fault. He neglected his body too much. He swore himself to the sick role. It’s what he was supposed to be, wasn’t it?

“This is what’s best for you, Joel!”

His mother’s voice echoed through his ears flinching at the hammer mentally smacking against his bones. 

He was sick.

Being sick is what’s best for him.

###### 

Thirteen months ago, Joel had first padded bear feet across the cold, tiled floors of the institution. He was extremely personable, outspoken, and hotheaded. Something that caught the attention of one red-headed boy that was admitted a month after Joel. Joel held himself up like someone that wasn’t broken; someone that didn’t look like they had a mental breakdown two minutes ago. To Shaun, it was mesmerizing.

“Hello~” Shaun nearly jumped out of his skin at the sing-song voice from above, dropping the book that he was reading, 300 pages and a hard cover flattening his big toe. He looked up to see a young boy with fluffy curls and a smile that could make Shaun do laps around the town just to see.

Joel’s face strained when the book fell. He started running apologies past his tongue, leaning over to pick the book up for Sean. “I’m Joel; Joel Rubin.” The darker hair boy said as he handed the book back in the most enchanting voice that vocal cords have ever presented, his other hand pushing the stray curls from his eyes, an awkward smile played across his lips.

“Sean Poole.” His name came out shaky and stuttered. Sean suddenly felt his stomach churn with sickening worry that the boy in front of him assumed he had a speech impediment at this point. He was probably judging him, just like everyone else in the laughter-filled lounge. He looked down at his now fidgeting hands, fingers entangled in his v-neck. His eyes became misty and his face became warm as he tensed up more at the awkward silence.

“That’s a lovely name.” Sean jumped a bit at the long-awaited response and looked up at the older boy. Joel was smiling. It was that moment that Sean started to take in the details of him. He wore a baggy, dark red Hollister Cali. sweatshirt wrapped around his small body paired with high priced, ripped skinny jeans and converse. Sean wondered why Joel was even here in the first place. He looked absolutely fine, mentally stable, healthy.

Healthy.

Something Joel could never accept himself to be.

“Th-Thank you.” Sean squeaked out, blushing a deep crimson now as he looked away. Joel noticed how uncomfortable Sean seemed. He let out a small exhale, smiling admirably at Sean. He laid his delicate, pale hand on top of the book in Sean’s hand.

“You were on chapter four. Page one-hundred-and-fifty.” Joel stated in the softest voice he could manage, vaguely admitting how observant he was of the shivering boy moments before. He turned to walk away, not noticing how Sean stared at the back of his head with so much admiration and want.

###### 

“I can’t believe Lawrence. He didn’t even glance at us today at lunch.” Joel huffed, still hotheaded about the James situation as he and Sean walked behind the other boys. It was 6pm and none of them had seen Lawrence as the day progressed. Sean sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes slightly as soon as he knew Joel was looking the other way. 

The two boys had become extremely comfortable with each other. They acted like a normal, highschool couple; in touch with society and fashion and media. When Joel and Sean were together, they looked out of place in the best way possible. They were happy; laughing with each other until their sides screamed in agony and their lungs ran out of air.

“I think you’ll survive this, babe.” Joel heard Sean say softly next to him in a nonchalant coo as Sean wrapped his arm around Joel’s thin waist, still sporting that red sweatshirt over a year later, nuzzling and kissing at where Joel had scratched and picked at to remove the nonexistent malformation. Adam, Bruce, and Matt snuck glances back at the boys, Joel and Sean affectionately pushing each other’s buttons, making sure Sean wouldn’t notice their stares. They knew all too well how fast Sean shut down with more than two pairs of eyes on him – and one of those two pairs had to be Joel Rubin’s.

“We all went to our bullshit group therapy sessions and saw our psychiatrists today, right?” Bruce looked to all of them, expecting one of them to say they skipped out of appointments today because they were ‘sick.’ With no response, he continued, mostly focusing his voice to Joel who was still huffing and dragging his feet across the floor like a child. “We should be able to get into the lounge now. Maybe you’ll run into him.”

Joel perked up slightly, curls bouncing. “Yeah, he should be done with his tour now. It must be getting pretty late.” Joel responded, picking at the now destroyed pimple on his cheek. His hand didn’t stay there long as Sean anxiously, yet gently, took Joel’s hand in his as his cheek started bleeding slightly from almost constant, nervous scratching and irritation.

A few minutes of silence passed before they entered the lounge through large, wooden, double-doors. The lounge consisted of couches, pool tables, flatscreens, game consoles, computers, books, any type of entertainment you could think of. Although, with the amount of dead-eyed patients and certified nurses guarding every door it made this entertainment center slightly depressing with a heavy atmosphere.

The boys ended up around a round table, sitting on fluffy pillows and beanbag chairs, playing simple card games and keeping to themselves. Matt glanced up from across the table, getting a clear shot of Lawrence walking in with the same, stuck-up blonde boy. He nudged Adam slightly, careful to not gain the attention of the still-angered Joel. Adam looked over to Matt, confused until Matt nodded his head towards Lawrence silently. Adam looked over to see the back of Lawrence and James’ heads. James looked as if he was leaned against Lawrence, Lawrence’s arm wrapping around his shoulder loosely. They looked like they were reading something, isolated once more in the back corner of the room, completely ignorant to the boys playing Go-Fish only ten feet away.

“What is Lawrence doing?” Adam mumbled softly to Matt, to which he got a shrug and confused look. Joel looked up to the whispering that continued in front of him, slightly confused as he glimpses to his side, the corner of his eye catching Lawrence and James. The fire in his stomach didn’t settle on seeing Lawrence after his 6-hour-long-disappearance, let alone cuddling with Miss Priss.

“That’s it. This is the fucking line.” Joel stood up from his chair, eyes burning frustration. “He hasn’t even looked at us all fucking day. He’s treating his best, and to mention, only, friends like absolute dirt and I won’t stand for it.” Joel turned in mid-sentence, marching his way over to the two boys.

As he rounded the rather large bean bag they were situated in he saw both of them look up in surprise. James round blue eyes looked nothing but confused, a feeding tube wrapped around his left cheek, with Joel’s disgusted expression directed towards him. Lawrence still kept his arm laid out over James’ shoulder, his face reading fear more than surprise.

“Hey, Lawrence.” Joel plastered the most convincing smile he could muster, his teeth slightly clenched in subtle anger. “Can’t believe you didn’t see me and your boys sitting over there.” Joel raised his arms up, pointing to the table which the boys were now leaving to follow in Joel’s footsteps.

“Yeah,” Lawrence took a long glance at Adam, Bruce and Matt as he dragged the word out. “Bad eyes, gotta get ‘em checked again soon.” He pointed to his glasses, slightly glancing at the nurses that were supervising. He hoped they wouldn’t notice the brewing fight. This would just set him back and the absolute last thing he’d need is James to run away from him. He needed James to prove that he was sociable and content enough that he could befriend even the loneliest of people. He didn’t need Joel to ruin this plan. He expected a confrontation from the temperamental boy, but he was hoping he’d get the rant and verbal hits later on when James had long gone to his room. Joel crossed his arms, pouting, knowing all too well Lawrence was trying too hard at a lie. Lawrence mentally swore at himself for not making himself sound more believable as he had been doing all day.

Lawrence felt James become submissive, leaning against him more. James felt like he was slowly melting against Lawrence’s side at the intimidation behind the curly-haired boy’s eyes and perfect teeth. He sighed slightly in relief that James didn’t get up and walk away at the sudden dramatic entrance of that of Joel fucking Rubin. Lawrence loved the boy, but he was getting under his skin at this point. Joel knew and understood how badly and determined Lawrence was and is about getting out of this place, yet he’d get in the way of the door.

“How you holding up, man?” Bruce’s voice came bellowing from behind Joel, breaking tension that was all too thick. Lawrence accepting a fist bump that Bruce held up at the question.

“Doing good for being back in here. Met a pretty cool dude.” Lawrence pointed towards the blonde boy casually. Joel seemed disgusted at how oblivious Lawrence was to James’ stuck-up behavior to everyone at the psychiatric center. He must have seen the way James acted if he’d followed him around all day like Joel suspected. Why wasn’t he bothered by this? Even at this point, James’ attention was focused on the table that the boys were originally sitting at, ignoring all of them. 

Joel became infuriated when everyone played it off like it was someone they’ve never seen before. Someone that didn’t scoff at them and walk proudly down the hallway like they had just won a first place trophy at a pageant.

James acted tense and uncomfortable around this many people, his focus brought back by four hands in front of him, he brought his delicate hand up to all them, but hesitated and put it back tightly to his lap, looking away from them. He didn’t understand friendships or people anymore. He didn’t want to. His stomach was doing flips at the awkward encounter while his body craved his mother’s attention and care to save him from this situation.

James kept reminding himself that he couldn’t make friends. They’d just force him to eat and tell him that his habits were unhealthy. He looked to the bandaged hand of Lawrence Sonntag that was still resting on his shoulder. He was probably the most elaborate, intellectual, and determined boy he’d ever met – he hated it. He made sure to run into James on his way to therapy sessions and through medication lines. Lawrence was even there when he refused to eat dinner and ended up being restrained and forced into a feeding tube. Lawrence made such an effort for James attention. It felt odd, yet amazing to see someone try so hard for him. It was something that James had not gotten while at the institute. Lawrence made him feel less alienated. Lawrence made him feel calm. Lawrence made him feel everything James didn’t want to feel at seventeen-years-old. He could feel himself trusting this boy too fast, falling way too hard, all because he couldn’t comprehend friendly interactions anymore. Lawrence was the first friendly encounter he’d had in seven months.

“I don’t know why you’d hang out with this guy.” Joel retorted to the casual conversation all the boys were now having about Lawrence’s vacation from the hospital. James snapped out of his thoughts, turning his eyes back to Joel, his heart skipping a few beats at the comment. Everyone turned toward Joel, crossing his arms and giving an intense stare into James’ hurt expression. Joel looked away from all of them then, “He’s pretty messed up if you ask me.”

James’ signature expression showed through, clearly showing how offended and disgusted he was at the comment, yet said nothing. He decided to stay quiet in this verbal dual. He knew Joel. He knew he gave the ‘cheery’, outgoing boy the cold shoulder seven months ago in this exact spot. He could understand why he would act this way towards him. Joel became impatient at the lack of words coming from the blonde boy’s mouth and James’ head suddenly got pulled forward, his nose burning slightly.

“Like look at this thing. It’s ridiculous, Lawrence. You don’t know who he really is, Lawrence. You haven’t seen James Willems at his ‘finest’. He’s just trying to be the sickest one here.” James felt another, harsher tug on his feeding tube, yanking his head back, yelping with his hand over the tube as Joel pulled on it with his fingertip.

“Calm down, Joel.” Lawrence said, a threatening tone laced his voice at how impatient he was getting with Joel’s attitude. James felt a hand press against his chest, the other tightening around his shoulder as the shock settled in.

“He’s just trying to be the sickest one here.”

The words echoed through James’ head, the mumbled argument between Joel and Lawrence vibrated in his ears as he processed the sentence deciding to stand his ground. He wasn’t sick. His habits were normal and healthy. How dare someone that barely knows him try to say that he’s sick. 

He, along with everyone else, knew of Joel’s illness. Joel was one of the most sociable, popular teenagers in the ward. People talked about Joel; people fantasized about Joel; people wanted to be Joel. James felt like he was being shamed, embarrassed, and walked over. As a person of his standards, he wasn’t going to sit down and take this subtle physical bullying and vulgar, verbal abuse.

“You know that doesn’t look too normal.” James finally said as Lawrence and Joel were arguing. Everyone became silent, unaware that James even had a voice, turning their eyes to him in shock. He looked Joel dead in the eye, a manipulative smirk planted on his face, pointing at his scarred up cheek with a smirk. Joel seemed to grow pale at the words: “doesn’t look too normal.” 

“The irritable mood swings, pale skin, bloodshot eyes, scarring skin.” James listed off every detail of Joel’s body that he could pick up on across his fingers. “Looks pretty bad. What a shame too, you looked so healthy a week ago.” The curly-haired boy looked sweaty and paranoid now, shivering as medical records, articles, and books that he had researched countless of times over diseases and infections were filing through his brain.

Sean glanced back and forth between Joel and James in shock, expecting Lawrence to say something, anything. He looked to Joel, frozen in fear and he could only imagine how many illnesses Joel’s mind was thinking through. Joel brought his hand up to his cheek, covering the scratch with an unreadable expression covering his face.

Joel silently turned around after a few minutes of silence, still holding his cheek as he slowly walking away, stumbling a bit. Probably to go to the bathroom to research his skin in the full body mirror for an hour or two. Sean was too afraid to say anything, he didn’t want to nor could be pushed into the spotlight. Sean wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of his lungs at James. Joel was nothing but perfection. If James couldn’t see that through his manipulative eyes, then it was his loss.

He didn’t hesitate in his choice to follow Joel, giving one last, harsh glance to James before catching up to Joel quickly. Thankfully before he made it out of sight, fearful with how much the sick boy was tripping and stumbling over his own two feet. He wrapped his arm around the smaller boy on the verge of a breakdown. Joel’s shoulders were visibly shaking as he hid his face in his hands, too embarrassed to show his now ‘ill-skin’ to his boyfriend.

James noticed how tense Joel was at the doorway when Sean tried guiding him out of the lounge. He felt little to no remorse for what he had done, rubbing at his cheek and nose where Joel had pulled, his nostril still burning from agitation.

“Are you alright?” Lawrence turned to him after Joel and Sean were out of sight, adjusting the feeding tube back around his ear gently. James gave no response, still frustrated at the amount of embarrassment that Joel had put him through.

“Lawrence, did you comprehend what just happened? What the fuck?” Bruce said with extreme irritation. “You know how sensitive Joel is with illnesses. You’re just going to let this prick fuck around with him?” Bruce impatiently waited for a response from the boy, still adjusting the tube gently across James’ face. He’d expect Lawrence to be up and ready to fight anyone that would fuck around with their instabilities. Lawrence used to willingly take up any opportunity to defend the boys, especially anyone that fucked around with their mental illnesses. Whether it be Bruce’s addictions, Sean’s self-confidence, Adam’s sadness, Matt’s shallow affect, or Joel’s neverending anxiety of being sick.

“What happened to you?” Bruce finally said, tired of waiting for a response that would never come. Lawrence looked everywhere, but at Bruce. Bruce soon gave up on Lawrence, leaving him and storming off to his room, anger filling his gait. Adam hesitated on following Bruce, double-taking back at the two boys still sitting comfortably on the beanbag.

Lawrence cupped James’ face, making sure the tube was in place, almost like he had been in the room with James when they inserted it. Has Lawrence really been up James’ ass that much today? James was looking down, away from Lawrence’s eyes, yet leaning into his touch. He glanced over at Matt that was about to follow in his steps, giving him the same knowing glance.

Adam nodded. Matt understood what was going through his head. Adam took note of the prominent attributes to Lawrence’s attitude:

For one, he didn’t defend Joel. He acted like this loner, James, was his new favorite. Like none of his past friends existed. Lawrence acted as if he held James up on a pedestal above them all.

For two, he didn’t show much affection in his actions towards James. James was leaning into Lawrence’s touch, clearly enjoying the sympathetic attention he has yet to receive from someone in months. His touch was gentle, but his expression showed absolutely nothing. Adam had seen the way Sean looked at Joel when Joel wasn’t looking; and he saw the way Bruce looked at him; the way he had once looked at Matt in old photographs of the boys. This was nothing of that.

Adam’s heart suddenly wrenched for the blonde boy. He looked embarrassed and hurt as it was, to know that Lawrence was manipulating the system and using James as a key out of this place was sickening. James already looked at Lawrence like he put the stars in the sky. Lawrence looked at James like he was the Earth; and he was the successful business man spitting smog into his atmosphere looking for fast cash and nice cars.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A filler chapter full of fluff that was a bit rushed because of the holidays and finals.

“He’s just feeling…” Sean looked down at his boyfriend, his face hidden in Sean’s chest, hesitating at the next word, trying to find a better synonym to get themselves to a less cramped area of the ward. “N-.. Nauseous.” He felt Joel’s body tense up against his arms at the word as Sean mentally slapped himself at not coming up with a better excuse that wasn’t illness related.

Nurses started crowding around the two boys, trying to feel Joel’s forehead and neck, making Sean tighten his arms around the smaller boy, covering his hand over the back Joel’s head to keep his face against his chest. Sean could feel the vibration of Joel’s whimpers against his limbs and chest. He looked down to see the dark-haired boy wriggling and pushing his way out of Sean’s tight grip. Joel’s anxiety was through the roof. There were at least four voices asking him questions, trying to stick stethoscopes to his chest and back, and hands to examine his temperature.

Joel slid his way out of Sean’s arms, falling to his knees harshly that a shockwave of pain traveled through every limb. He stumbled and got up quickly before the nurses could surround him again, taking off to the nearby restroom about three doors down. Joel could hear his name being called from behind, but he never acknowledged it. He needed a mirror, he needed to be alone, he needed to take care of this skin malformation before it got out of hand. Flashbacks at his protest against needles and draining of infectious tissue invaded all of his thoughts with the nurses’ yells now replaced with his and his mother’s in a hospital room.

Sean could see the nurses debate for a short amount of time, ultimately and silently deciding to forcibly pull Joel from the bathroom, probably with the idea of restraining him if he put up a fight.

“H-he must have went to throw up!” Sean stuttered the words out, a knot tightening in his stomach as the four nurses stopped in their tracks and turned their eyes to the shaky boy. He looked away after a few seconds of scanning them all, feeling like their eyes were burning into his body. “He said he wasn’t feeling good about a half an hour after the dinner-hour.” Sean started playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, trying his best to stop the constant tremors down his spine, his voice becoming quieter with every word that escaped his lips. “He probably just overate or somethin’..”

He waited for a response from the nurses as he looked at his worn converse. He soon felt a hand on his shoulder, making him yelp and jump slightly. Sean looked up to see a considerate, female CNA with a sympathetic smile placed on her face.

“Maybe you should go check up on him, Sean. You might be able to talk some sense in him to come out and get a physical done to make sure his vitals are alright.” Sean looked down instantly when she started talking, tightening his jaw, nodding his head with misty eyes. He knew all too well that Joel would be thrown into the medical wing for the night whether he liked it or not because of his believed nausea.  
Sean wriggled the hand away from his shoulder slowly, trying not to seem too unstable and blow his chances at comforting Joel enough to coax him out of the bathroom. As he took a few steps towards the bathroom door, he heard the four nurses start explaining the plan of waiting outside the door, in case of Joel running or fighting his way out of their grasp like he would normally do when he had to get a regular physical, vaccine, etc. 

Joel despised and often fought verbally and physically over getting his vitals examined, it was different from asking to go to the doctor for an actual problem you noticed. Physicals were worse because they defined the illnesses that he didn’t want to know he had hidden in his organs, skin, and blood. It was frightening enough to think about the consequences of leaving them untreated until they started showing physical signs, but it was better than learning he had a deadly cancer that couldn’t be cured. He couldn’t bear the thought of knowing he was going to die; when he was going to die; how much of the disease would run through his body and destroy the few, perfect parts he had left.

Sean understood this much, feeling like his body was gaining a pound of lead within itself with every step to the bathroom door. When he pushed the bathroom door open he found a discouraged boy scrubbing and scraping at what used to be a small pimple. Sean’s breath hitched, eyes widening slightly as he noticed Joel hiccuping and wincing body in the mirror above the sink, shaking to keep his balance on his tiptoes to get as close to the mirror as possible. The originally white soap had already become a soft pink color with small splotches of blood on the mirror from the close proximately that Joel was to it.

“Joel, stop it!” Sean was already moving before his brain could interpret what he was doing. Sean wrapped his arms around Joel from behind, that were significantly stronger than Joel’s entire body’s fight, pinning Joel’s arms at his sides. Joel started retorting and screaming with Sean quickly laying his hand over his mouth while soap suds flew from Joel’s hand and face. He looked over to the door, concerned that nurses and doctors wouldn’t come bursting in over the ruckus the two boys were making. He sunk to the floor against the stall wall by the sink, Joel tight in his grip and hand still cupping his mouth just tightly enough to muffle his words of protest. Sean could feel a hot stream of tears pour onto his hand that was over Joel’s face.

“H-Hey, it’s just me. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” The statements repeated themselves several times as Sean kissed Joel’s right ear, temple, and cheek to comfort him. He slowly moved his hand away from Joel’s mouth as the screams of protest transferred to small whimpers and sniffles of a clogged nose.

“Oh no,” He heard a stuffy Joel say to himself as he wiped his nose on his hand and sleeve.

“What is it?” Sean leaned over, laying his chin on Joel’s hunched over shoulder, ready to drag Joel to a toilet or nearby trashcan incase he actually did need to vomit after all the stress that had occurred in the past ten minutes.

“I think I’m getting a cold. What if it’s bad? What if this stuffy nose makes my nose bleed or something?” He could hear Joel start to sob more, covering his face in fear and frustration. Sean rolled his eyes slightly in relief, turning Joel around to face him in his lap. He held his breath when he saw how beautifully shattered Joel looked. Red-rimmed eyes, tear stains rolling down his cheeks, chin, and neck, shivering like it was below freezing in the room, with a raw, bleeding area of skin across his left cheek, with a hand covering his mouth now, teeth chewing at his sleeve, with the other gripping onto Sean’s sweatshirt for dear life.

“You don’t have a cold” Sean started to say. He saw Joel start fidgeting in his lap, acting more concerned than before.

“Then it’s something worse. Oh, God..” Joel covered his face in his hands once more, leaning his face into Sean’s chest, starting to whimper and hiccup again.

“Hush, this’ll be an instant cure,” He lifted Joel’s face up, smiling reassuringly. He gently set Joel on the floor next to him before he got up to go over the paper towel dispenser. Sean dried the counter where the double sinks were, making sure that it would be comfortable enough as an examination table for his boyfriend. When the sinks’ marble countertop were up to par for Joel, Sean reached a hand out to Joel, which Joel hesitantly looked the other way. He was afraid that Sean would find some illness that he never noticed upon inspection; just like James had done moments before.

Sean rolled his eyes again at Joel’s stubborn behavior, kneeling down to lift Joel up like a child. Joel ended up wrapping his arms around Sean’s shoulders and legs tight around his hips. Not wanting to let go feeling as if he’d be ripped away by doctors, unable to see Sean again till the next evening after he was approved and able to leave the quarantined medical ward. Sean gently set him on top of the counter, trying to pull away from Joel, receiving a harsh tug on his hoodie to pull him back over, making him chuckle slightly.

“You gotta let go of me before I can clear that stuffy nose, babe.” He looked down at Joel, to his relief he looked significantly more relaxed. Furthermore, Joel looked up at him, arms loosely around his neck now, arching his back up with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. Even with a bleeding wound riddling his face with drying soap and a runny nose, Joel was breathtaking. Sean leaned in unconsciously, connecting their lips softly for a prolonged amount of time to comfort his boyfriend from the harsh words of earlier. He cupped Joel’s face as gently as possible, some blood staining his left hand.  
Sean didn’t care if Joel initiated the verbal battle, James went too far in manipulating his fears, even if Joel had gotten slightly physical with him; it wasn’t like his 5’6”, 110 pound boyfriend could do much physical harm to him. He’d stand by his boy before anyone else; defend him; comfort him; and make sure he always felt like he did the right thing. Joel needed the support after the carelessness he received as a child.

The kiss ended abruptly at a powerful hiccup from the smaller boy on the counter, covering his mouth quickly in surprise, Sean looking just as surprised. The younger boy let out a chuckle, making Joel let out a giggle for the first time that day. His attention was brought back to his runny nose with how stuffy Joel still sounded. He grabbed a couple more paper towels from the dispenser within arms reach, putting it up to Joel’s nose. Joel looked confused at first at the action, looking at Sean with wide, bloodshot eyes and nose crushed into the paper towel.

“Blow.” Sean finally said through a soft laugh at Joel’s innocence. Joel did so, and the action was repeated a few times until Joel’s nose sounded emptied of the extra mucous. “You have ‘a cold’ anymore?” Sean asked hopefully, washing his hands off before turning his attention to the raw area of Joel’s cheek.

“No, not anymore. That’s pretty amazing, Spooleo.” Joel smiled at him gratefully, breathing clearly now, seeming oblivious to the fact that his stuffy nose wasn’t a cause of any illness. Sean kissed his temple in happiness that his boyfriend was looking better with every minute that went by.

“I gotta soak this next though, alright? So no fidgeting.” Sean said with concern, rubbing his thumb against the self-inflicted wound on Joel’s cheek. Joel pulled away and cupped his hand over the significantly large area of dried soap and bleeding skin, looking away hesitantly. “I promise I’ll make you healthy again.” Joel looked back at Sean, sporting a reassuring smile across his face to try and show confidence to Joel that he could fix it; make it sting less. 

When Sean had the chance to grab more paper towels and wet them down, Joel tried to turn towards the mirror to examine the raw skin. Sean jumped in when he noticed Joel twisting his upper torso around, pulling Joel’s face toward him. “No, no more mirrors right now, okay? It’s just you and me now.” He kissed the smaller boy’s healthy cheek, holding one of his hands tightly, warm-water-coated paper towel in the other hand.

Joel flinched at the rough texture of the soggy paper towel against his torn skin. Sean flinched at the sound of sandpaper against tender skin. After a few flicks of the wrist, the blood soaked within the paper towel, mixed residue of warm water and blood dripped down Sean’s palm and forearm. Thank God for long sleeves and hoodies, he could only imagine how Joel would react to seeing so much of his own blood. Sean could hear Joel sobbing over having thrombocytopenia or some other blood disorder. Sean was just thankful he could understand what Joel was talking about during panic attacks. He thanked countless of hours in his dorm room where he’s read 100 pages at a time, memorizing every word from each chapter in medical books.

### 

“What are you doing” Sean jumped at the voice, looking back and forth from the books in his hand and Bruce. It had only been recently that Sean became acquaintances with the other boys thanks for Joel’s unstinting personality.

“Uh,” Sean’s throat tightened as his fingers gripped the three books in his hand from the library stacks of the lounge. Bruce’s smirk seemed to grow with every passing minute that Sean was silent. He could see the spines of the books, sporting titles like DSM-5, Medical Terminology: A programmed approach, and Anatomy & Physiology.

“Are you doing this because of a certain somebody?” Bruce could see Sean’s face heat up, only making his heartstrings tug at the sight of this ginger-haired boy going huge lengths to understand the fragile boy that had a drainage procedure done one too many times.

“I guess.” It was all Sean could muster through his throat. He wanted to say more, but the everliving fear of being judged by others plagued his mind.

“He’s like snow on Christmas day to you, isn’t he?” Sean looked up to Bruce, who was now looking across the room to Joel, huddled around Adam, Lawrence, and Matt laughing amidst the conversation.

“I just want to understand.” Sean finally croaked out, tightening his grip on the books. “I don’t know what he’s talking about when he’s going off on one of his panic attacks.” He looked to his left at the dusty bookshelves, looking everywhere but at Bruce. He felt sick, shy, and was waiting for a critique on why he shouldn’t be trying to get closer to Joel; Joel was so much better than him, even at his breaking points. “I mean.. How am I supposed to know what ‘bradycardia’ is or ‘hyperplasia’ is? I’m only sixteen and have barely passed any science classes when I was in highschool.” Sean could feel his neck and cheeks heat up at how many words were spilling out of his mouth. He hated himself for opening up so much to Bruce, someone he’d only met a month ago. Although, when Sean looked up, he never saw the grin full of admiration and love from Bruce.

“Joel would probably tear up over that sappy bullshit.” Bruce huffed out with a laugh, leaving Sean a blushing mess to go back to Adam and the others. 

Sean made sure to duck behind a few bookshelves to read, hoping Joel wouldn’t catch him studying up on the medical terms and diagnoses that plagued the curly-haired boy’s mind. He could see the pages bent and worn at the corners - probably from Joel’s endless studying; memorizing every word of any disease or illness that he thinks he has - rather than sleeping.

### 

“Is it bad?” He heard Joel squeak out. Sean almost jumped out of his skin as he was pulled from his thoughts.

“N-No!” Sean snapped back as he saw Joel starting to turn to view the beaten cheek in the mirror again, grabbing his chin to draw him back to his attention. “Not at all, just some fingernail scratches.” The ginger-haired boy said in a calmer tone, his heart beating a million miles a second. He couldn’t have Joel panicking now, not with the nurses, knowingly standing right outside the bathroom door, ready to pounce at any sudden sounds from the smaller boy.

“I don’t want to go to that awful medical wing. Those doctors have no idea what they’re talking about.” Joel leaned into Sean’s hand, tearing up slightly as he looked down at the overly-buffered tile floor, droplets of his blood adding color to the otherwise white bathroom. “They always tell me there's nothing wrong. I’ve studied these things, Sean! I know what’s wrong with me and yet they do nothing. What kind of doctor doesn’t help someone who’s sick?” Joel felt sick, sicker than usual, his stomach did flips and his diaphragm did somersaults. His breathing quaked as whimpers pushed through his throat, he gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles were white while his legs hang limp, no where near the ground as his toes curled and tensed.

Sean felt his heart sink, he really couldn’t believe someone that barely knew Joel - his Joel; the Joel that was accepting of apologies, open to new friends, and by all circumstances a good person - could say things to wrap and strangle his thoughts. James made Joel walk into this bathroom and wash a few layers of skin off of his pale face. James was what made Joel sick this time.

Joel didn’t avert his eyes from the floor, tears silently tracing his high cheekbones and jawline. His breath hitched as he felt a warm, soft hoodie wrap around his neck. He looked up to Sean, meeting the boy’s concerned eyes, rustling in Sean’s hoodie until his arms successfully were embraced by the oversized sleeves.

“You’ll be okay.” Sean muttered softly to him, wrapping his arms around his waist, creating a tight embrace that was accepted by Joel without hesitation. Sean felt the fragile arms and legs wrap around his body, taking the opportunity to lift the lightweight boy in his arms, swaying back and forth slowly as Joel hides his face in the crook of Sean’s neck. “I won’t let them leave you sick.” He could feel Joel relaxing into his body.

“I’m ready.” Joel finally whimpered out after a few moments of silence and calm swaying. Sean knew he wasn’t. Joel was too confident in his own thoughts and beliefs. He was always that way. Sean let out a light sigh, carrying Joel to the door, his blood-ridden cheek pressed against his shoulder. Joel wasn’t letting go of Sean anytime soon, his grip was getting tighter and tighter with every step Sean took nearing the bathroom door. Sean knew what was going to happen as soon as he steps foot outside the blinding, white bathroom. It was the same as every time that this happened. Doctors and nurses would pull and pry Joel off of Sean with Sean forcing a blank stare across his face with limp limbs, with all the willpower he possessed trying to ignore Joel’s pleas.

“I’m not sick anymore! I’m not!” Sean could hear the screams against his ear as two nurses successfully pull Joel’s hands from Sean’s now stretched and wrinkled shirt. Five minutes. It took five agonizing minutes. As Joel was pulled down the hall and around the corner, Sean could still hear him screaming how he’s fine and just wants to go to his room and sleep. When Sean heard a pair of heavy doors shut to another wing of the institution and the sobs were muted, he looked over to see Bruce, Matt, and Adam standing by the door. He gave them a reassuring nod and smile before turning to head to his assigned bedroom. He couldn’t stomach going up to the boys, he felt like vomiting and he couldn’t shake the cold sweats that were pouring from his pores. Anger was boiling in the bottom of his stomach with an agonizing burn. Seeing Joel in a paranoid state was enough -- knowing that someone else had caused it to the point of him scrubbing skin off of his face was pure, agonizing pain.

### 

“Maybe I’ll catch up with you later. I’m pretty tired as of right now.” James mumbled, Lawrence still fumbling around with the feeding tube until it looked one-hundred percent comfortable. It was nearly impossible, but James wasn’t complaining at the care he was getting from his newfound friend. He felt Lawrence’s fingertips graze against his face for a bit longer than needed, causing James to jump from the beanbag quickly, he had a spring in his step as he turned to Lawrence, forcing a crooked smile. It was hard to forget the broken expression he had caused moments ago, even if said person was being utterly confrontational and rude towards him. He wasn’t trying to be the sickest one here. That’s the last thing he wished to be. Did he really look that sick? No. He was fine. He was doing better. He ate today. He ate yesterday. He gained a pound this week. Joel was just delusional and it ached James’ bones that the curly-haired boy would try so hard to get underneath his skin.

“Yeah, I’m with you on that one.” Lawrence let out with a sigh, still seeming oblivious to the verbal brawl. He rubbed the back of his head, standing up from the beanbag in a much heavier and lazier fashion than the blonde boy had. “Where’s your room at?” James looked at him confused at the question. “I could walk you there.” Lawrence said, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, leaning over to James with the teasing response with how obvious his offer sounded beforehand.

“O-oh! Nah, thanks. I think I can manage.” James let out with a huff, tilting his head up and spinning on his toes to the lounge doors. Lawrence puffed out a laugh while looking at the small blonde in awe -- James was a pretty interesting human being. With a few strides Lawrence caught up to James’ small gait. James turned slightly, his walk slowing down a bit. “What?” He let out with a small laugh, smiling up at Lawrence who gave a nonchalant smile in return.

“Not even a goodbye? Goodnight? Sayōnara?” Lawrence said back jokingly.

“‘Sayōnara’? Are you some weeb or some shit?” James let out with a chuckle, arching one of his eyebrows waiting for the response.

“Eh, I worship anime girls like any other normal person would.” He nudge James, hearing him laugh again at the retort. Lawrence flashed white teeth whilst asking, “So I’ll see you tomorrow morning? Breakfast hour?” James looked at him confused, it had been months since he got asked a question like this. No one really wanted nor needed to see him again, and his stubborn personality made it hard for anyone to even encounter him once.

“I guess so, I’ve got nowhere else to be.” James replied, waving his hands around the room, emphasizing his points that they were, indeed, imprisoned in the institute. He gave Lawrence one last, awkward smile, still uneasy with Lawrence’s overly-friendly behavior. He had to admit he felt a little paranoid for talking as much as he did with the boy during the day, his heart rate increased as his mind went over the day. He didn’t open himself up too much, right? Did he uphold that independent composure where he didn’t need friends? He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to gain enough weight to get out of here.

His mother’s proud smile and laugh ran through his mind as he made way to his dorm in wing A. He hadn’t seen her in a few months and only received a few phone calls where she seemed anything but concerned. He needed her emotional support, his body was slowly crumbling from the social alienation. He felt more alone than anything; empty; hollow. Although, with Lawrence around, he found himself not thinking primarily of calories and fat-intake. He felt satisfied for the first time in what felt like years; like how a glass of water relieved the hunger and stomach pains.

When he walked into the plain, cloned dorm room and heard the door click shut quietly behind him, he flopped down onto the bed, blue sheets and pillows giving him an embrace that he’s become so unfamiliar with. James sighed, closing his eyes, his mind still clawing at the verbal exchange he had experienced with Joel, and how that anxious-looking boy looked at him before running after Joel.

James sighed, flipping to his side and pulling the blankets over his head. He felt shielded by the comforter and he soon forgot the stresses of the day and fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

### 

Lawrence’s eyes were locked on James as he watched him round the corner to his dorm room. Snapping his attention to a noise on the opposite end of the hall where he found Adam. He had a concerned look more than anything else. Adam, unlike his boyfriend Bruce, was gentle on all of the boys even though he was cursed with the worst case of bitchface Lawrence had ever seen.

Lawrence hesitantly started to make his way towards Adam at the end of the hall. He already knew what Adam would want to have a lengthy conversation about. He was too exhausted to have one of Adam’s lengthy, late-night bathroom conversations. Lawrence’s mind was all for the 10pm curfew tonight and his limbs were in no shape to sneak around. His bruised knuckles burned, not realizing the damage to them until moments ago. The ghost of broken plate shards and drywall infected his skin and seeing how upset Adam looked wasn’t helping.

“I know.” Lawrence said softly, hoping the nurses wouldn’t overhear them still in the halls. Lawrence gently lay a hand on Adam’s shoulder, guiding them both down to C-wing, where their dorm rooms were. They slipped into the closest proximity bathroom just before one of the overnight nurses was doing her rounds of her assigned wings.

Lawrence leaned one of the outer stall walls, waiting for Adam’s kind, persuasive, and therapeutic words to softly bounce off of the bathroom walls, closing his eyes out of exhaustion. He expected Adam to give him that gentle slap back to reality with his sensitive, down to Earth personality.

Although, the whisper that cut through Adam’s teeth had entered into Lawrence’s eardrums like knives. Lawrence opened his eyes wide, looking at the boy at the other side of the small bathroom in utter shock. Adam was gripping at his gauze and medical tape over his left forearm in frustration, looking at Lawrence in pure disappointment and anger.

“Lawrence Sonntag, you sicken me.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Adam, it’s eighty-five degrees outside. Are you sure you want to wear skinny jeans and a sweatshirt?” Adam was frozen, hand hovering on the door knob while his mother examined his outfit choice thoroughly. He gripped the rollerblades in his other hand tightly. “You’re going to have a heatstroke that way.” She started to make her way over to him making Adam’s heart rate increase and his thoughts go in a frenzy.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He held up a water bottle, shaking it slightly. The distance was shortly closing in on him and his concerned mother. His converse hit the hot pavement steps of the small porch before another inch would dissipate. Leaning his head through the door he told his mother he’d be home by sundown. He made his way down the sidewalk, coming to a halt before turning around and walking back up the stairs to the wooden door of the small apartment complex.

His mother was frozen after the door clicked shut, biting her thumb nail as she stood worried sick for her son. He’d become more and more emotionally torn from his friends and her. He used to love coming downstairs after finishing his homework and talking with her and her friends in a small book club she organized a few years back. Such a respectful and enthusiastic child that now seems more introverted with water-color smiles that were smudged and smeared by long nights and tears and soft whimpers that leaked through thin drywall.

Her thoughts of Adam vanished when she heard the door click open, Adam pearing in again.

“I love you.” Adam mumbled while looking at the high traffic carpets. After a few minutes with no response, he looked up to see a smile start to show across her face. He smiled back, before closing the door and quickly walking off, rollerblades in hand clacking together along to the spring in his step.

“I love you too.” She said back to the closed door, concern still lacing her mind.

### 

“Hey! You finally made it!” Chad turned excitedly towards Adam. He was perched on top of one of the skate ramps in the small, run down park. “What took ya?” Adam heard him yell down to him as he sat at the base of the ramp, switching vans for blades. He could hear the rolling of Chad’s blades approaching him, sliding to a stop in front of him with poise.

“Hm? Oh, just my mom.” His thoughts were enveloping him in the thought that his mother would figure out about his remedies to mental pain he couldn’t shake. He stood up with shaky legs and uncoordinated arms. He hadn’t been up to rollerblading lately with his best friend, who was standing as still as could be on his wheels compared the the clumsy balancing act that Adam was performing.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been pretty rusty lately.” Chad asked, taking Adam’s forearms to hold him up. Adam flinched slightly at the sudden grip to his arms that went unnoticed to Chad, who’s grip tightened to hold him up.

“I’m fine.” Adam spat in irritation, trying to ignore the burning cuts under his sleeves. He was getting sick of people asking if he was okay. He was taking care of it. He pushed off, skating down the strip that led to the concrete sidewalks lining the park. Chad turned slightly, looking off at Adam with worry before pushing off after him.

“Adam if there’s anything that’s up I’m all ears.” Chad stated, sliding up to Adam’s side who was rollerblading with ease now at a significantly high speed. “We’ve been best friends for years now and I’ve been really worri-”

“I’ve already told you I’m fine!” Adam looked to his best friend in frustration. Before Chad could say anything Adam disappeared from his side, causing him to hit the brakes on his skates and nearly falling over himself.

“Adam!” Chad whipped himself around and almost tripped over Adam when he made it to his side. Adam’s arm burned with a familiar, wet feeling building up underneath his sleeves. The perfect day to wear a colored sweatshirt. He cursed to himself, knowing that the bloodstain would leak through the cotton. He tucked his arm against his chest, his right hand covering the bruised and sliced forearm that took most of the fall.

If Chad saw what he had been doing to himself he would be sent away. He knew Chad well enough to know that the blonde haired boy would go to his second-mother (Adam’s) and tell her about it. Chad had become Adam’s best friend and brother over the course of five years; bonding over rollerblades and music interests. They were inseparable for a long while, until Adam’s demons made his shoulders feel heavy and he constantly felt tired. He’d feel sick and too unmotivated to emerge from his bedroom for days and would come up with any excuse to push away hang outs with Chad.

If Chad saw what he had been doing to himself he wouldn’t be able to control his pain. He wouldn’t be able to feel the quick relief of infected, heavy blood cells leave his body; The roller coaster of emotion that went from relief to regret to guilt to sadness once more. He couldn’t stop. It was his remedy for thoughts that he couldn’t control; thoughts that he was sure no one else understood.

If Chad saw what he had been doing to himself he wouldn’t be able to take his mother’s crushed expression. Being away from her for more than a week or two was sickening to Adam. It always had been. She needed him around; He needed her around. He felt like he’d be abandoning her if he was sent away. Something he could never forgive himself for, the same thing his father had done years ago: leave his mother alone.

“You’re bleeding,” Chad said, guilt riding up in his stomach and chest for causing Adam’s wipe out. He reached out for the arm that was clasped against Adam’s chest, only receiving a huff from him as he curled in on his arm. “Adam, you’re hurt. Let me see your arm.” Chad replied, being more assertive this time. With no response he ended up pulling Adam’s arm away from his chest with ease, surprising Adam as he started wriggling and ripping back at his injured arm.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Adam kept repeating and pleading. Tears were building up in his eyes at the realization of everything. This was it. This was his last taste of actual freedom. This was his last hangout with his best friend. His last everything.

“Adam, what is wrong with you lately?” Chad said, looking up at Adam’s face while he ripped the bloodsoaked sleeve up. He felt Adam freeze in his arms, his wide, brown, tearful eyes waiting for Chad to say something. Anything. His bloody arm felt the warm, summer air for the first time in months.

“Please,” Adam stuttered through his throat the best he could. It came out raspy and dry like he hadn’t taken a drink of water in days. Chad had wide and confused eyes, his hand soaking up the sticky, red substance from Adam’s forearm.

After a few moments of silence, Chad moved his eyes down to the cut up arm. He leaned back a bit, his jaw moving up and down, trying to find words to fill Adam’s ears. He ultimately ended up covering his mouth and looked away, appearing pale and sick.

“It was an accident. I was holding my cat a-and she freaked out-” Adam started to ramble on with any excuse he could come up with, the sting of tears were making his vision blurry.

“An accident? How is these from a cat, Adam!?” Chad let go of Adam’s arm, tears filled his eyes as he ripped his blades off, forgetting his beat up converse. His hands wrapped around the back of his head as he paced back and forth.

Adam looked at him in desperation. He couldn’t find the words to tell him how he felt when he cut. It felt amazing. Like when you fall into a warm, soft bed after a long day. Although he knew that even though Chad was his best friend, he could never understand nor forgive him for it.

“Please, don’t tell my mom.” Adam looked down at his scarred arm, tears starting to overflow and trace down his cheeks and chin. Chad felt his heart sink, feeling his mind and heart tugging in two opposite directions. Adam was hugging himself, rocking slightly with small sobs ringing in his ears. His mother would be absolutely heartbroken to know her only son self-harmed, but she would be even more heartbroken to find him in a tub full of blood months from now.

Chad gave Adam a look that he’d never forget: Disappointment before putting his converse on and standing up. He could have asked Adam so many questions. Why didn’t you tell me when this started? How long? How much? Why? It all rotated back to “Why?”. Chad ran his fingers through his hair, walking away from Adam with blades in hand.

“Let’s go.” He mumbled out, not taking a second look or waiting up for Adam to lace up his vans. Adam was frozen, eyes wide and vision blurry, frozen in disbelief at what had just occurred. His mind was racing and nothing was processing.

### 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Please don’t cry.” Adam pleaded into his mother’s shoulder as she hugged him tight enough to crack his ribs. “I’m sorry.” He choked out before gripping the fabric of her shirt, shivering and gasping for air between sobs. The cold, tiled floors hurt his feet and the smell of bleach and cleaners kept tickling his nose that he became all too accustomed to.

“This is what’s best for you.” His mother said, pulling away from him, but leaving gentle hands over his forearms. “I’ll be okay, Adam.” Her long fingers ran across his tearstained cheek. “Just take care of yourself this time, please.”

Adam leaped into her arms; keeping the smell of her perfume that danced around her scarf in his memory for the past year.

### 

“What?” Lawrence left out an airy laugh, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Adam had to be joking.

“Why are you using him?” Adam’s hands were trembling, his fingers gripping his shirt sleeves. Lawrence blinked a few times at the question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lawrence ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the mirrors hanging above the sinks. He stared at his reflection for a few seconds, carefully forming sentences in his head as Adam was left speechless. He was a manipulator and a master at words. It came to him as easy as anger did; even to his friends and family. His fingers tightened and tugged on his hair as he took a deep breath in before looking back to Adam with a distressed look that his friend was giving him right back. “I don’t know why you were all bagging on him earlier. You’re lucky those nurses backs were turned or we’d all be borderline-quarantined to our rooms for the next week.”

“Do you even know who James Willems is to everyone here?” Adam spat in disbelief.

“We’re not getting into this now are we, Adam?” Lawrence sighed, drawing the words out slowly and lazily, thinking and playing his words through his lips like it was an art. “I’ve been up since six. We can pick this up another time, a’right?” Lawrence’s voice was mutilated by sleep as he stretched, beginning on his trek to the bathroom door to cut the conversation short. He felt someone tug on the cuff of his sleeve. “Adam,” He sighed in frustration, turning around to see wide, brown eyes that were glazed over with tears and sleep deprivation.

“I didn’t mean to be that harsh.” Adam mumbled looking down to the hand that was tightly holding Lawrence’s sleeve. Adam had a large heart and was rarely ever rash with his words in the fear of losing what little his mind felt he had left. He already felt that he was a disappointment to his mother and best friend. His body couldn’t bear if he lost any of the boys here. 

“Hey,” Lawrence sighed softly, laying both his beaten and bruised hands over Adam’s quivering shoulders, receiving a slight jump from the action. “I get it, you’re frustrated at what happened with Joel earlier, but I’m not using James. I need to meet people and socialize and all that jazzy bullshit. You know that more than anyone else about my treatments.” He waited for a few moments in silence. Lawrence knew Adam wasn’t stupid. He knew Adam wouldn’t buy it, but his body was in no shape to explain and morph his intentions with James in a thoughtful manner at 10pm.

Adam looked up to Lawrence, words getting caught in the back of his throat as he twisted the hem of his shirt. Sleep caught his body fast with the newly prescribed medication to help him relax and get better amounts of sleep because of recent migraines and insomnia. Lawrence must have noticed, a relatively bored face turning into that of concern.

“C’mon, your meds are kicking in.” Lawrence mumbled out, Adam’s tired expression and posture becoming utterly contagious. Adam felt unfulfilled and irritated with himself. He always let his sadness and timidity overtake his body -- leaving any meaning to the word assertive forgotten in his mind. He could feel Lawrence’s arms wrap around his shoulder blades, causing him to shudder and duck away.

“I can walk myself.” Adam retorted, walking ahead to the door. “This conversation isn’t over.” He stated, not looking back to Lawrence who had rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Whatever you say, Adam.” He sighed out, stretching his limbs to the ceiling unphased by the situation at hand. The corner of his eyes caught the door being swung open with such force that it nearly slammed into the wall. 

Lawrence turned to the bathroom mirror examining over his bruised knuckles and tousled hair. A sudden heaviness hit his body like a freight train that he was back. Back in this bleached and sterilized prison. Back to therapies. Back to constant, unsuccessful treatments. Back to everything and everyone shoving unwanted medications and commands down his throat until he’s choking for air that constantly seems too thin in this fabricated atmosphere.

Equations with the amount of time he’d be here with where he’s heading invaded his mind. Lawrence’s doubts coursed through his blood. So many things could go wrong with this. Anything could go wrong to make it fall apart thread by thread. He never expected that Adam of all people would pick up on him so fast. Why he would get so offended by Lawrence’s choice to manipulate the system was beyond him.

Lawrence could admit it. He was using James. Although, with the circumstances he’s in with the malnourished boy, it would be beneficial to them both. Nurses, therapists, doctors -- They’d all notice their social interaction and quick bond, and with how snobby James came off as, he needed it just as much as Lawrence did. No harm done, especially since James seemed oblivious to Lawrence’s boredom as they spent the day together.

It wasn’t going to hurt James permanently. It wouldn’t leave him heartbroken. What were the chances that a random boy that Lawrence picked from a crowd would be attracted to males?

What were the chances of said random boy even finding Lawrence appealing? He was a wreck and he was willing to accept that. James would see who he was eventually with how much time they spent together in just one day’s time. Especially with how stubborn Adam and Joel were acting. It was getting harder and harder to ignore each confrontation.

Lawrence groaned in distress, pushing his hands under his glasses to rub at his eyes, looking back at the green irises reflecting in the mirror. He’ll be out of here in no time. That’s all his mind wants; That’s all his tired and sore limbs need: Freedom. He’s done it before and he can do it again.

How hard could all this possibly be?

### 

Bruce dragged his feet into the cafeteria at 6:30am to see Adam already awake with hair still damp from an early shower. He smirked at how immersed Adam seemed to be in whatever his mother had given him to read on her last visit. Adam was extremely articulate and could do laps around anyone with literature; Joel included. Bruce always despised English lectures and assigned readings, but with Adam, it was tolerable -- To Bruce, it was heartwarming to hear his boyfriend so happy, fascinated and fixated on something that wasn’t pain. Overall, Bruce became a master of the books Adam had read without even reading them. Listening to Adam ramble on for their entire hour-block in the lounge about a book he had just finished - whether good or bad - was heaven in this otherwise penitentiary.

“How’s the reading comin’?” Adam heard a raspy, sleepy voice from above, pulling a chair up relatively close to his side. Adam, fully focused on the pages in front of him, rested his chin in his hand, sighing softly and skimming through one more page at an impressively fast rate. “C’mon, Adam.” Bruce groaned out, rolling his eyes slightly at the ignorance he was receiving from the other.

“Hm?” Adam looked up from his book, keeping finger on the line he was left on. He carried a quizzical look across his face with wide brown eyes, not a dark circle in sight under his eyes from getting up so early. “What is it?” He let out a laugh when Bruce was left staring at him with a knowing smile.

“Lost in your books again, dollface?” Bruce responded, wrapping an arm around the younger boy, pulling him in and pressing his smile against Adam’s temple. Adam felt his cheeks flush as he wriggled his way out of Bruce’s arms, his small laugh echoing off the nearly empty cafeteria walls. They were always the first ones there. Adam’s recent insomnia left Bruce forcing himself into a fixed schedule of waking up before 6:30am to check up on how his person was doing.

Adam had gotten worse lately. He kept to himself more lately, barely talked, and dragged rather than carried himself. Wantings became desperations when it came to self injury. Grabbing and sneaking anything relatively sharp into his room or the bathrooms. 

His mother usually visited once a week for a few hours and Adam enjoyed every minute of it. It was even better when his best friend would pop in, telling him about the latest songs that their favorite bands released or flipping through magazines, gawking at new rollerblades and video game reviews.

Adam hasn’t seen his mother nor his best friend in about a month due to schedule changes at her work or bad weather.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The words of his tired and broken mother would echo through the phone and dance around his eardrum. Adam’s heart ached to be home. To read and socialize in his mother’s bookclub. To skate freely down the park sidewalks. He couldn’t eat; couldn’t sleep; couldn’t think about anything other than the last taste of freedom he experienced before a small tumble ruined that all. 

“Please eat something. You’ve read that book three times already. I’m sure that ‘mysterious plot’ can wait ten minutes.” Bruce said sarcastically, sliding the book away from Adam, the younger’s eyes followed it sadly, snapping Adam from his thoughts. The book was soon replaced with a lightly toasted english muffin with apple butter jam spread sparingly over the top with a cup of warm tea. “C’mon, it’s your favorite.” Bruce continued in a sing-song voice.

“I’m not used to having the same book for so long.” Adam mumbled out, looking down at the breakfast Bruce had grabbed for him. “I normally get a book from her every two weeks, but-” His eyes drifted to the book that was resting in front of Bruce. “I feel like she’s just disappointed in me now.” He sighed as his vision became blurry as he bit his bottom lip, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking. “One year is too long and I’m still a mess.”

“‘Your mess is mine.’” Bruce quickly replied back. Adam snapped his attention to him, eyes becoming bloodshot from the sting of forming tears. “Listen, Adam, I-”

“We interrupting something?” A tired Matt questioned, dropping a tray along with Sean onto the round table.

“It’s nothing, just talking about books.” Adam plastered a smile on his face, his sorrow looking nearly nonexistent to everyone except Bruce.

“Y-Yeah, think I could recite the book word for word by now.” Bruce joked as he smiled up to his friends. “How you guys holding up?”

“Well, you guys already know I’m pretty neutral. I don’t feel all too much on either end of the spectrum so.” Matt leaned back in his chair, taking a swig of apple juice to clear his throat. He looked over to Sean, his face expressing nothing, but his mind trying his best to wrap around the meaning of empathy towards the younger one.

“Sean? Are you okay?” Adam questioned, taking notice to Sean’s posture and silence. He got up to move towards the smaller boy who was painfully tense. He was looking down at his lap with the brim of his hat covering his wide, concerned eyes, his fingers gripping and clawing at his arm and plaid sleeves as he violently shivered. The events of last night clouded his mind and plagued his thought processing. “Spoole?” Adam’s fingertips grazed over his arm slightly to grip onto his shoulder, causing Sean to jump back about two feet. The other three boys looked over him with concern and surprise at how fast his reaction time was this early in the morning.

“I’m fine.” The youngest spat out, still on guard and shaking. He never looked up, but Adam could tell he’d had a hard time sleeping with the painful screams and pleas from Joel breaking his eardrums on constant repeat. Sean found anything without his partner-in-crime by his side uncomfortable and unpleasant. Joel was his soft place to fall. He saved him from awkward silences with people and gave him something to look forward to the next day and the day after that. Sickeningly sweet kisses and holding hands was one thing that made days easier. Sean can’t even remember the last time Joel wasn’t glued to his side in an overly crowded room.

“Alright.” Adam sighed, sitting himself in the chair next to the scared boy and nodding towards Bruce to slide the tray of food towards him to which Bruce silently obliged. The tray coming to a sudden halt in Adam’s hands spilling some tea across the tray. “Thanks, Bruce.” He said sarcastically, dabbing at the tea with a napkin.

### 

James woke up feeling sick with stomach pains plaguing him. He whimpered slightly as he sat up, holding his stomach with one arm as he unwrapped the blankets from his legs. His body was malnourished and he knew the exact feeling as his feet hit the tiled floor. His bones ached and he felt tired even after eight hours of rest.

He grabbed one of the bleach, white towels and a clean pair of clothes from his small dresser and padded his way to the showers. He let scorching hot water pour down his head and neck to sooth some of the aches and ended up opening his mouth slightly and drinking as much hot water as his throat could bear. It made it easier when he was forced to eat meals and eased his stomach during the day. There was nothing more relaxing to James than having water, as hot as tea, pouring down his esophagus as the stomach cramps seemingly disappeared within minutes.

It was about seven in the morning when he finally made his way down to the mess hall. Dressed in damaged and bleached skinny jeans and a loose henley with worn converse to top it off. He absolutely despised the cafeteria and meal hours; they were excruciatingly long and lonely. The blonde boy would kill as much time as he could with cleaning and grooming himself to perfection to avoid entering even a minute early. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in the quiet hall in front of the double doors that entered the now bustling cafeteria. He nearly forgot the feeding tube that clogged one of his nostrils. He’d become accustomed to it overnight, even sporting a sleep-scar on his cheekbone from laying on it slightly.

“Good morning, Princess.” James twirled on his tip toes to meet green, tired eyes of that of Lawrence Sonntag. His appearance only told James one thing: mornings were his arch enemy. His hair stuck up and pointed in one direction, emphasizing how his black strands swooped and played gracefully across his forehead slightly. James looked at him up and down, arching a brow slightly at the nickname. “What? Does the petname still urk you or something?” Lawrence stated sarcastically with a small chuckle until James turned and started going for the doors. “H-Hey, wait a minute-” Lawrence’s stomach sunk a bit. James couldn’t have heard what he and Adam were talking about in the bathroom last night. His dorm wasn’t even near that wing was it? He went to roughly grab James’ wrist all too tightly

“Ow.” Was all that escaped James’ lips as he whipped around, looking to Lawrence’s hand tense around his small wrist with the few protruding bones pressed against each other. Lawrence instantly pulled his hand away as James cradled and twirled his wrist to soothe it close to his chest.

“S-Sorry. Something I’m working on.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from James. He forgot how fragile James was with his disorder; and how strong he could be.

“It’s alright..” James looked away to the cafeteria doors. “...We’re going to get yelled at for hanging out here.” He mumbled out, looking back to Lawrence.

“Yeah, right.” Lawrence mumbled out, still not meeting eyes with the blonde. He started for the door to find himself surprised that James didn’t follow in sync. “Hey, you com-”

“Y-yeah!” James voice cracked as he snapped out of the trance of getting force fed. He wasn’t hungry. Isn’t it unhealthy to overeat? Shouldn’t these nurses know that? He walked passed Lawrence with as much confidence and poise he could muster as his body’s heart rate increased with every step he took to enter the meal hall. Lawrence let out a small laugh as James pulled his signature bitch face, sticking his nose slightly up in the air just as he walked into every room; with masked pride.

### 

“What movie is playing again tonight?” Adam asked to fill the silence, taking another bite of his breakfast.

“Don’t remember, probably another shitty documentary about a lost cause that found hope in something.” Bruce replied, rolling his eyes. “But I guess that’s better than hanging in my room for three extra hours tonight.”

“You’re probably right.” Adam giggled out, looking to his left at Sean, who was still clawing at his forearms and shivering like it was 20 degrees Fahrenheit in the room. “I’m sure Joel’ll be out of the medical wing by then.” Adam continued with a sing-songy voice receiving a little jump from Sean and perked ears. Bruce smiled at the two boys as he felt an elbow jab into his ribs. His attention snapped to Matt who nodded towards the two boys who entered the cafeteria.

James and Lawrence were being bombarded with CNAs asking where they had been, considering they were both 15 minutes late according to the cafeteria clock. He could see James looking over at their table as they walked to their regular spot. Unbelievably enough, he looked almost remorseful for Sean, who was sitting with his back turned to him and still an utter mess. Lawrence caught eyes with Bruce, giving him an almost threatening look.

“What’s up with him?” He heard Matt mumble, leaning into him slightly so the other boys wouldn’t overhear.

“Probably just his HAB kickin’ in.” Matt looked at him quizzically. “Hostile attribution bias?”

“Emotion related?” Matt asked, still looking completely lost.

“Yeah, you know how Lawrence used to pick fights with people that ‘looked at him the wrong way’ when they just glanced over at him? It’s pretty much that to sum it up.” Matt looked to Lawrence with a blank look on his face, then back at James.

“I guess that makes sense.” Matt mumbled to himself, his voice flat as he kept examining the behaviors of the two as they sat across the cafeteria.

### 

After breakfast, Adam was found lounging in one of the oversized beanbags with Bruce, their limbs tangled together as Bruce would fall in and out of sleep, running his fingers through Adam’s hair as he flipped through pages of the same book for the fourth time. A shadow casted over the boys as Adam looked up from the pages to find a nurse.

“Adam there’s someone here to see you.” She stated in a sickly sweet voice that left Adam both excited and terrified. He could get his hopes up and think it was his mother and be delighted or utterly crushed from the outcome.

Adam looked back to Bruce, closing the book slowly as Bruce gave him a reassuring nod. He hesitantly pushed himself up with sore limbs. He clasped the book to his chest tightly, crushing it against freshly gauzed wounds making them burn slightly; it helped relieve the everliving feeling of it not being who he wants it to be in the visitor’s wing. He followed the nurse through endless blank hallways filled with broken people to highly contrasting, warm yellow and green visitor’s lobby.

He was greeted with perfectly white teeth and arms open.

“Mom” Adam felt every weight fall from his back as he smiled enough to have it ache his cheeks. He ran to her, crashing into her arms with a tight hug.

“I missed you.” He felt her fingers run through his hair and Adam felt like his body was melting. Seeing your mother after a whole month without her was a feeling he couldn’t even morph into words.

### 

“How many times did you end up reading that book?” She let out a small laugh at how Adam knew just about every word to the first few chapters. They were seated at a small table nearby a large window with numerous flowers clasped to it.

“A few times.” Adam mumbled out, looking away. He felt the book under his hands slide away, his fingertips bumped by a replacement. He looked down to see a box set, complete with three books, big letters spelling Halo spread across the spine of the books. His eyes glimmered at them as nostalgia hit his body like a freight train. He hadn’t read these books in years and could barely remember the plot, making it just as good as any new book his mother would bring him.

“Chad said you might be interested in these.” She said in a cheer-filled voice, examining her son’s reaction. “I got you the first three of the series. Just in case we’re not able to visit as planned.” Her voice strained on the last part, watching her son’s reaction go from happy to guilt-ridden.

“If it’s too much we don’t have to see each other every week. I know how tired you can get from work -- and then Chad with school..” He looked down to the books, running his fingers across the edges. “I don’t want to be a burden on the two of you.”

He felt her lips press against his forehead and cheeks, making him smile slightly at the affection. “You could never be a burden to me.” He looked up to her tired complexion and short brown, teased hair. “You, Adam Kovic, always come before anyone and anything else.”

“Are you sure you should be consuming stuff like that? That’s a lot of calorie intake for your small stature, darling.” Adam’s ears perked up at the new set of voices, turning to see a thin, appealing and wealthy looking dirty blonde woman sitting with none-other-than primadonna James. He was looking down at his hands, popping his knuckles and looking anything but confident like he normally does.

“I’ve tried to lay off on the food they serve me, but..-” James mumbled out. Adam had to strain to hear his response, only getting words here and there.

“Self control, my love. You’ve gained a lot of weight this week. Probably more than you really need to.” She pushed a few brochures towards him. “I just wish I could serve you my meals again. They were so much healthier and fresher than what the garbage they try to feed you at this establishment. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Yes, mother.” James mumbled back, biting on his cheek to fight back his embarrassment at how noticeable his weight gain was.

James looked broken. For the first time in the seven months that he had seen James he actually looked shattered. 

“Is that someone you know?” His mother leaned in, looking over to the boy. “New crush or something that I should know about?” She whispered, causing Adam to blush a deep crimson.

“What? No! Never!” He shook his head multiple times to get his point across. His mother laughed at the reaction, bringing her hand to her chest.

“I’m only kidding, sweetheart.” She looked down to her wrist watch, realizing her shift started in a half-an-hour. “I should get going though.” Her heart sunk at Adam’s puppy-dog eyes looking up to her. “I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can -- and I’ll call you tomorrow morning to see what you think of the books. Just like always.” She gave him one last tight hug, kissing his forehead for an elongated amount of time before slipping away. Again, Adam found himself in his regular emotions of depression dragging their way back to his body.

He looked over to James one last time before getting up. The blonde had his knee up to his chest, biting on his thumb nail as he was being mentally and verbally critiqued on his diets. His eyes were glossed over and his expression read the same emotions Adam had felt when his mother couldn’t visit for the third time in a row -- only James was being shot down by the one person who he cared the most for with that small heart of his.

James was getting torn apart by the one person he loved.

And soon enough that person would be Lawrence Sonntag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block really impaired what could have been with this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than expected and I'm not 100% satisfied with this chapter, but that's me probably splitting hairs over small details.

Adam came bellowing into the lounge area he’d left an hour and a half earlier, leaping onto a tired Bruce -- still half asleep in the bean bag where Adam had left him. Bruce pushed out a discomforted exhale as Adam’s weight hit his gut like a freight train.

“She came!” Adam exclaimed, pushing his hands down on Bruce’s chest with the widest smile playing across his face.

“Who came?” Was Bruce’s raspy response as he sat up a bit, steadying Adam on his stomach by grabbing his hips.

“My mom!” The younger laughed slightly at the obvious answer. He saw Bruce smile slightly, letting out a small chuckle.

“I told you she’d come, stupid.” He retorted jokingly, pulling Adam down onto himself. He felt a hard, rectangular object stop Adam abruptly from crashing down on Bruce’s chest. “New book?” Bruce said in a defeated voice, coughing slightly from the unexpected impact, his body still recovering from the trauma of Adam’s weight jumping on him moments ago.

“Yeah!” Adam said, sitting up quickly and leaning onto Bruce’s groin in an awkward position. Bruce winced and groaned. “Three of them!” Adam continued, ignoring Bruce’s pained expression.

“That’s nice, babe.” He said with strain, pulling Adam up gently to his torso. “But you’re killing me.” Adam let out a laugh at the slight pain Bruce was constantly feeling between the crash course Adam took and the books corners pressing into his organs. Completely forgetting the blonde boy that was nearly in tears at one of the nearby visitor’s tables moments earlier, too overjoyed by his mother’s gift that he got to share with his partner.

### 

“If I don’t eat their… ‘healthy portioned’ foods,” James said, using air quotes for emphasis. “then they force a tube into my nose and make me eat blended up calories.”

“That’s no excuse for not working off the calories, love. What happened to the James I had a year ago? Lean, athletic, soccer star.” His mother seemed to reminisce on games she had never attended. The only real memory was when James sprained his ankle after taking a collision with an opposing team’s defense. She seemed annoyed that day from James’ recollection. She missed his older brother’s football game because of him.

“It burns my nose and makes me feel sick..” James mumbled out, looking down at his pale hands as he examined and picked under his thin, fragile nails. “I’m sorry.”

He never got a response. He felt a pair of glossed lips press against his temple as freshly manicured nails wrapped around his small stature. The pair of blue eyes looked to his mother as he hesitantly returned the hug, relief washing over him.

“I just want you to be happy again, like you were at home.” James’ eyes stung with guilt at the weight gain and relief that his mother hadn’t left without a word like she had so many times before. He felt embarrassed and shameful. He felt sick. He felt fat.

He watched his mother leave to consult with James’ therapist only to see an argument persisting between the two. He exhaled roughly through his nose, looking down to his hands again to find them shaking. His felt his heart grazing his rib cage in such a rough motion that it felt almost painful. He was angry. He was tired; embarrassed; alone. He stood up, turning to the large, double doors to return to the walls that held him in this place. His already broken body didn’t have it in him to hear his mother cry and yell at doctors.

“He’s just a young boy for God’s sake!” Was all that rang through James’ ear as he left the room with the heavy, metal door coming to a close. Once again capsulating him within hospital.

His vans padded against the overbuffed tiles. Every door, every room, every inch of this hallway looking the same on his travel back to the lounge. James kept his eyes glued to his feet with thoughts clouding his eyes and ears like cotton. All the congratulations and celebrations that took place over the two weeks that he gained weight ran through his memory. Clapping hands of nurses and support group members were getting agonizingly loud in his eardrums. How was it that his ears were aching in such a quiet hall?

His feet came to a halt at a sudden realization at how empty these halls really were, the ringing in his ears numbing out. Everyone was either at the meal hall or the lounge area. Nurses, patients, and doctors were nowhere in sight near the dorms.

He looked to his left and stared blankly at the neutral, white painted bathroom door. His stomach contemplated it as it did somersaults. His thoughts were snapped back into reality when he heard the distant footsteps of either nurses or a group of boys. Either way, his mind was made up quickly as he slowly slipped into the bathroom. 

He leaned against the door as it closed completely, sighing as he looked up to the ceiling. As he heard the footsteps and voices slide by he padded his way to one of the stalls. His light breakfast felt like lead in his stomach. His ear strained to the door to hear any closeby footsteps as he readied his shivering body for exacerbation. Mentally, he counted to three as his tear-filled eyes steadied on his index and middle finger.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

### 

Lawrence had been wondering around by himself for a while now, too bored to stick around where he should have been. His lack of adrenalin rushes had taken a toll on his mentality.

He offered Matt and Sean to follow him to keep him company, but Sean was still an emotional wreck and Matt was concerned. He slid past nurses and doctors with ease, telling them that he had forgotten his hoodie in his room or that he was heading to the restroom. Anything to get away from cages where you’re constantly monitored. Every move or creak of a joint was brought to attention by someone. Therapy was stressful enough. He didn’t need nurses shoving commands and questions down his throat during his free time too.

He hadn’t seen the younger blonde anywhere since that morning when he was pulled away by a cheerful nurse saying he’d had a visitor. Lawrence had figured by now with walking down the same halls repeatedly that he’d find him sooner or later. That visitor came two hours ago. How long could he possibly be kept up? 

Lawrence cursed at himself, probably looking alienated and abnormal to the nurses this morning. He’d have to come up with some excuse to his therapist as to why he wasn’t socializing with his normal, known group of friends that he was so inseparable from before. He can already hear the pen scratching against the paper for more monitoring and social interaction and cue classes.

He turned down the nearly empty hall, hesitantly passing the windows of the visitors’ area to see it relatively empty with a few family members or friends of other patients sitting around, but no James. He rolled his eyes, huffing quietly as he turned to head back to where he’d been pacing. He felt himself becoming irritated at how hard it was to find the small boy. He couldn’t just have disappeared. And there was high doubts that James had been released with how sickly he looked. This was becoming tiring.

He came to a halt, his beaten converse squeaking across the floor. Did he actually care about James? He wasn’t anything to him. He wasn’t supposed to be anything to him. So why was he investing all of his own time and energy into finding him? He was just a rich, preppy boy. The kind of boys that Lawrence would beat up in the back alley after detention.

Lawrence had a burn in his chest as he felt the sudden need to hit, punch, kick anything. Anger was building up the more he thought about the hows and whys. He didn’t think long and hard before he was looking to a weak dry wall. 

He’d pay the price for it later. 

His anger becoming uncontrollable at the frustration and unwanted concern of the missing boy and the last thing he needed was it to grow and become more of a problem. He cracked his knuckles and fingers, stancing himself to get a nice swing through the wall. Bloody, bruised knuckles was one sensation he missed dearly.

As his mind was made up, he mentally counted:

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

Before he could pull back far enough for a satisfying hit against the wall he heard loud, muffled gagging. He nearly snapped his neck as he hid around the nearby corner. The gagging persisted and relief rushed over Lawrence to see no one rounding the hallway corners. He slowly pivoted and padded down the hallway, stopping in front of the nearby bathroom door where the noise was the loudest. The gagging kept persisting, becoming more forceful with coughing. Lawrence arched an eyebrow, slowly pushing the door open as James’ protruding collar bone and and shoulder blades flooded his memory. The pitch of the coughs sounding exactly like the ones from a young, blonde boy from yesterday getting a nasogastric tube put in by force. Lawrence felt his heart wrench at the sounds of discomfort. 

Thankfully the rusty hinges’ groans blocked out by the vocals of the other in the nearby stall. It made it easy to sneak in. A small high of adrenaline hitting Lawrence’s head like nicotine off a freshly lit cigarette at the idea of still being unnoticed in the open. Another sensation he had missed.

Lawrence looked under the stall to see familiar vans and skinny jeans from earlier. The coughing and gagging continued. He walked over to the peach-colored stall, sliding his back down to sit on the cold floor, leaning his head back on the hard plastic of the locked door. His heart panged a bit at the thought that not a single splash of bile touching water had been made. This had to be James. His recollection of what he’d eaten that morning was little to none. He closed his eyes, James’ desperate gasps and coughs filling his ears and drowning any external thoughts his heart feeling like it was pooling with blood; weighing him down; upsetting him. 

What was he doing sympathizing for a pathetic, torn up soul? It felt foreign to Lawrence -- and not enjoyable. He never wanted nor needed to sympathize for anyone -- Never wanted to feel for anyone. Feelings weren’t easy to understand. Feelings to Lawrence was like religion to Darwin; they didn’t make any sense.

“What are you doing to yourself, princess?” Lawrence finally managed to rasp out of his dried throat. He opened his eyes slightly, waiting for a response when the gagging and coughing - and any other sounds - suddenly ceased to exist. “At least open the stall door. Please.” Lawrence continued to fill the silence with something.

No response.

“I’ve been looking for you for forty-five minutes and you can’t even fucking say anything to me.” Lawrence let out, getting quickly annoyed at the ignorance he was receiving from the younger. His body became tense He banged the back of his head slightly on the door, causing the stall’s lock to rattle. “I know it’s you, James.”

“I felt sick.” Lawrence had to strain to hear the small, defeated voice coming within the stall.

“If it’s just that then let me in.” Lawrence retorted, knowing exactly what James’ intensions were. The boy on the other side of the stall door went quiet again. “Tch. If you don’t, then I’ll just have to crawl underneath on this gross floor like some weirdo.” Lawrence said teasingly.

Lawrence sat for a few minutes, staring at the clouds from the small, open window near the ceiling, his back leaning against the hard plastic door. His adrenaline started pumping slightly as the door clicked as his body started falling back as his support was quickly pushed away by his weight. The dark-haired boy landed on his back roughly, wincing slightly and tilting his head back a bit to see a tiny, blonde boy returning to his hovering position over the toilet. He heard a soft sniffle escape James.

“C’mon don’t be such a big baby.” Lawrence said, rolling his eyes and laughing slightly.

James turned quickly and glared at the older one with puffy, tear-filled eyes from the dry heaves. A look Lawrence had become accustomed to in the past two days. Lawrence carried a crooked smile that made James look like he want to strangle him.

“Why are you even here?” James mumbled out, coughing soon after from the acid and bile tickling the back of his throat.

“Like I already said: I was looking for you.” Lawrence sighed, sitting up and turning around. “You were gone for like two hours. I’m not allowed to worry?” Lawrence’s fingers went to caress James’ jawline, feeling an unexpected pang when James moved his face away before he could.

“I never asked you to.” James spat back, his blue eyes still boring holes into Lawrence.

“What the fuck, man? I just told you I spent nearly an hour doing laps to find you.” Lawrence felt anger bubbling up in his veins again. He nodded at the other boy’s position next to the toilet. “I mean look at you! Obviously you needed me.” Lawrence took in the sight of James, leaning his small body against the stall wall, too tired to stand at the moment and pale as ever sporting those signature red-purple circles under his blue eyes.

“Who ever said that I needed you? Why would I need anyone. I did fine before you showed up anyways. All you’re doing is distracting me from what I should be focusing on.” James’ voice started to raise, letting out another dry cough at the end of his statement. Memories of his disappointed mother played through his mind on repeat like a scratched disc.

_“What happened to the James I had a year ago?”_

It echoed through his head like a migraine.

“You know,” Lawrence began, standing up. “maybe Joel was right about you.” He retorted, tired of the younger boy that was still situated on the floor. “Maybe you are just a stuck up, selfish, little boy.” With that Lawrence made his exit, leaving a shocked James to himself on the sterile bathroom floor.

Any kind of bonds he’d made with James Willems has been officially cut. Sure, the blonde boy was a golden ticket out of there quicker than he could say Miku Hatsune’s his waifu, but it wasn’t worth the strenuous effort. Especially for someone that urked his nerves and left his body and mind doing somersaults as much as James did.

### 

“Where have you been? Doctor’s have been asking us if we’ve seen you for the past hour.” Came a familiar voice to Lawrence’s left as he entered the lounge. He turned to see Adam and the rest of the group huddled around in the corner surrounded by bookshelves -- all placed comfortably on pillows or the floor. He scoffed, running his fingers through his hair as he walked over to them with an irritated expression.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” Lawrence snapped back, still feeling the irritation sinking into his blood.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Bruce spat back defensively, leaning forward to cover Adam’s shocked expression from the angered response.

“Why don’t you just go hang out with James or somethin’.” Sean mumbled harshly, just loud enough for the group to hear. He kept his head low, focusing his eyes on the rough, cream colored carpet. His heart was throbbing for the essence, the scent, the comfort of Joel. It’d been over twelve hours and their was still no sign of the small boy.

“James? Willems?” Lawrence looked at him questionably, acting as if the statement from Sean was a joke. “That snotty… high-end… selfish prick can fuck off.” He continued, his fingernails digging into his skin inside his hoodie’s front pocket, looking away from the other boys as his face started to heat up in agitation.

“Funny how you couldn’t have said that yesterday when he gave Joel a mental breakdown.” Sean exclaimed, finally looking up to Lawrence with glossy, tired eyes that were filled with anger. 

“Sean..-” Matt said softly.

“No! All of a sudden you want to act like James never mattered to you?” Sean continued. “You come running back to us because you lose someone or something all the time; When it’s convenient for you. How pathetic can you be, Lawrence?” Sean finally stood up, coming eye level with Lawrence.

“‘Pathetic’? Coming from someone who can’t even function around people.” Lawrence spat back, cracking his knuckles still hidden in his hoodie pocket.

“C’mon, guys.” Adam sighed, setting the new set of books from his mother aside carefully and stood up, his limbs still stiff. Walking over he put a hand gently over Sean and Lawrence’s chest. “It’s been a long couple of days and we’re all tired.” Adam went on, trying to grab hold of the situation.

“At least I don’t beat on people if I don’t get my way.” Sean spat, ignoring every essence of Adam.

Lawrence went silent. Memories of his mother and father yelling and screaming during his last tantrum at home. The last time he saw home. Before he could think, hear, see, or do anything Adam was in between them both.

“Both of you. Stop-” Adam was cut off by a blunt blow to his right cheek, landing harshly on his side.

“Adam!” Bruce scrambled to get over to the smaller, motionless boy. Sean was just as startled, covering his mouth and kneeling down to examine Adam’s face. Bruce tilted the younger’s face towards him a bit, examining what soon would become a nasty bruise across his left eye and cheekbone, already red and irritated looking. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck, Lawrence?!” Bruce screamed up to the dark-haired boy.

Lawrence didn’t feel anything; couldn’t think; couldn’t comprehend; couldn’t breathe. The only thing he focused on was the throbbing in his right hand. He only snapped out of the aching trance when he felt doctor’s hoard around him, pulling harshly on his shoulders and arms. His green eyes turned to meet wide, blue ones at the doorway of the lounge. He pursed his lips to say something to him, but was torn away from the opportunity.

“Is he okay?” Came a concerned voice, kneeling in between Sean and Bruce, steadying Adam’s head from the nurses checking him over for any serious injuries.

“We don’t-” Bruce started, stress lacing his words. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked up from the pale, skinny fingers only to have his words cut off by seeing the one and only James.

James looked up questionably from the silent boy next to him still awaiting an actual response from someone.

“Y-Yeah.. He’ll be okay. Just a bruise.” The boys heard as they looked over to a nurse. “We’ll take him to the infirmary and give him so ice. As soon as the swelling starts goes down we’ll see how he feels.” James looked back to Bruce who was absentmindedly brushing the stray hairs away from Adam’s forehead. He felt guilt rising up in his chest as he looked back at the other two boys, who were huddled on Adam’s other side.

If it weren’t for him being so stuck-up 30 minutes ago this wouldn’t have happened.

He felt Adam’s hair graze through his fingers and he snapped back to doctor’s gently lifting him up to take him to the medical wing. Adam was already starting to stir and whimpered slightly at the sharp pain in his cheekbone. Bruce was already getting up onto his feet when another nurse came by, putting a gentle hand on his chest.

“It’s better if we wait for all this to settle down, Bruce. We’ll let you see him as soon as we can.” The gentle voice was almost sickening to Bruce. He already felt nauseated at seeing his boyfriend get knocked out by a punch that wasn’t even directed toward him. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t do anything. He just watched pathetically as his boyfriend was carried out.

“God dammit, Adam.” Bruce heavily sighed, falling back to where he was, rubbing his forehead from the oncoming stress headache. James, Sean, and Matt all looked to Bruce, who looked like he was left in shambles.

“I’m sorry.” Sean squeaked out, feeling as if his heart would leap into his throat, choking him like the thick atmosphere. He felt his body start to shake as tremors travelled around his spine. His eyes stung and his cheeks and neck were burning.

“It wasn’t you fault.” Came a mumble to Sean’s right as a heavy hand laid on his shoulder. He looked over to find Matt, who helped the younger up and guided him towards to doors.

The awkward silence that filled the air was making James feel sick again. Acid and bile burned at his tongue. He looked to Bruce, who had leaned back against the bookshelves, his hands covering his eyes, rubbing his thumbs in circular motions against his temples.

The blue-eyed boy stood up from his position where Adam once was, his joints feeling stiff and knees hurting from kneeling. He was ready to make his way to the other side of the lounge when he spotted the neatly stacked books lying near a beanbag and multiple pillows. He went over the pick them up, recognizing the blue, black, and purple colored spines immediately as the ones he saw Adam carrying out of the visitor’s lobby.

“Hey,” Bruce heard a soft voice speak from above him.

“What?” Came a raspy, strained voice, his scarred arms shaking slightly.

“Are these his?” James said, kneeling his upper torso down, careful not to bend his sore knees too much.

Bruce looked up to find the three books clasped lightly in James’ pale hands. He gently took them into his own, looking to the white sleeve cusps of James’ pricey looking sweatshirt. Exposing deep red liquid soaked into the cotton.

“You’ve got blood on you.” Bruce finally said, nodding at James’ cuff. The blonde haired boy looked down at the sleeve cuff, small speckles of blood pooling over the threads. He shrugged.

“I never really liked this sweater anyway” He smirked, rolling his eyes and Bruce smiled back. He didn’t know why. The boy sent Joel to the medical wing and drew Lawrence away for the past couple of days.

“Hey, Bruce!” Matt called out to get the older one’s attention from the doors. Bruce looked past James to the brown-haired boy gesturing him to come over.

“I uh,” He started, standing up and tucking the books under his arm. “I better check on Sean.” James watched him walk away, catching eyes with a concerned looking Matt.

“Bruce!” James spat out a little more loudly than intended. Bruce jumped slightly, whipping around to look at the boy. “L-Let me know how Adam is if you can.” James stumbled over his words slightly, but Bruce just smiled in return, nodding in response.

“I will.”


End file.
